THE  SUDDEN  INSANITY  OP  THE  8MT7OOLEB.  SHAE.KET. 


RECOEDS 


THE  BUBBLETON  PARISH; 


PAPERS  FROM  THE  EXPERIENCE 


AMERICAN  MINISTER. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS   BY    BILLINGS. 


"  Books  are  not  absolutely  dead  things,  but  do  contain  a  progeny  of  life  in 
them  ;  .  .  they  are  as  lively,  and  as  vigorously  productive,  as  those  fabulous 
dragons'  teeth  ;  and  being  sown  up  and  down,  may  chance  to  spring  up  armed 
men." — MILTON. 


BOSTON: 

A.  TOMPKINS  AND  B.   B.  MUSSEY  &  CO. 
1854. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  inVhe  year  1354,  by 

ABEL   TOMPKINS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


Stereotyped  by 

HOBART    t    ROBBINS, 

BOSTOH. 


TO 

THE  INDEPENDENT  CHRISTIAN  PASTOR, 

WHO  MAINTAINS  THE  INTEGRITY  OF  HIS  OFFICE 

AMID  THE  ALLUREMENTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP  AND  THE  THREATENING  OP  ENMITT  ; 

PROCLAIMING  THE  WILL  OF  GOD  IN  FEARLESS  FAITH  AND  UNCOMPROMISING  PURITY  J 

TRUSTING  IN  THE  POWER  OF  TRUTH  AND  THE  RECOMPENSE  OF  VIRTUE  ; 

JEfltae  "  3£Ucorlis"  of  JjHimstmal  Vitiasiiutas, 

IN     THE    CELEBRATED     PARISH    OF     BUBBLETON, 
ARE  VERY   RESPECTFULLY   INSCRIBED. 


2063522 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 
PRELIMINARY  AND  CRITICAL, 7 

I.    MY  ENGAGEMENT, 17 

II.    MY  PREDECESSOR, 22 

III.  MY  FIRST  SUNDAY  IN  BUBBLETON, 29 

IV.  I  RECEIVE  A  VISIT, 86 

V.     MAKING  PASTORAL  CALLS, 43 

VI.  CONCERNING  A  YOUNG  LADY, 60 

VII.  COLLISION  WITH  MR.  PEPPERY, 65 

VIII.  A  NIGHT-SCENE, 63 

IX.  MR.  FJSCAL'S  PRESENT, 70 

X.  THE  INTERVIEW,  76 

XI.  THE  LEGEND  OF  SIR  BRASIL  AND  HIS  FALCON,  .  .  83 

XII.  POLICY  AND  PRINCIPLE, 93 

XIH.     MR.  FISCAL'S  WRONGS, 105 

XIV.  ORACULAR  BLUNT  AT  HOME, 112 

XV.  ORACULAR  BLUNT'S  VIEWS  OF  BUBBLETON,  ....  117 

XVI.  A  TRAGEDY  OF  INTEMPERANCE,  . 121 

XVII.  TROUBLES, 132 

XVffl.      SCYLLA   AND    CHARYBDIS, 139 

XIX.    THE  SEWING-CIRCLE, 145 

XX.    THE  ABOLITIONISTS, 159 

XXI.    OMENS, 170 

1* 


VI 


CONTENTS 


FAGB 
XXII.    A  REVIVAL  SCENE, 177 

XXIII.  Miss  ARLINGTON, 184 

XXIV.  HOW   I   AM    COMFORTED, 193 

XXV.    THE  NIGHT-WALK, 198 

XXVI.     A  SYMPATHIZING  VISITOR, 211 

XXVII.  INCIDENTS  OF  BROTHER  STRINGENT'S  MINISTRY,  217 

XXVIII.  BEARING  THE  LIGHT  IN  A  DARK  PLACE,    .   .    .  226 

XXIX.     CLIPPING  THE  EAGLE'S  WINGS, 235 

XXX.    THE  END  OF  A  TROUBLED  MINISTRY, 240 

XXXI.     A  HEART  IN  RUINS, 247 

XXXII.    MY  RESOLUTION, 252 

XXXIH.    I  RESIGN  MY  OFFICE, ' ....  255 

XXXIV.    THE  DECISIVE  HOUR, 263 

XXXV.     MR.  ARLINGTON'S  HOME, 271 

XXXVI.     CONFESSION, 276 

XXXVII.     Miss  ARLINGTON'S  CHAMBER, 287 

XXXVIII.    WITH  ORACULAR  BLUNT, 295 

XXXIX.     MR.  BLUNT  DISCOURSES  AGAIN,      302 

XL.  Miss  LARK  SOARS  INTO  A  NEW  SPHERE,     .   .   .  308 

XLI.    MR.  PEPPERY  PROVES  INCORRIGIBLE, 316 

XLII.  BROTHER  STRINGENT  SEES  BETTER  DAYS,    .   .   .  321 

XLIII.  THE  PLUSH-STREET  MINISTER  RECEIVES  A  CALL,  328 

XLIV.    PLUSH-STREET  AND  MR.  FISCAL, 335 


PRELIMINARY  AND  CRITICAL. 

AFTER  some  dozen  of  the  ensuing  "  Records  "  had  cir 
culated  through  the  columns  of  a  periodical,  it  became 
evident  that  they  were  causing  some  disturbance  in  those 
places  to  which  they  had  gained  access — particularly  in 
the  ancient  and  reputable  town  of  Scandalburgh.  The 
editor  began  to  be  plied  with  letters  from  various  digni 
taries  of  that  town,  making  inquiries  concerning  the  author 
ship  of  these  objectionable  papers,  and  offering  some  rather 
free  criticisms  upon  their  merits.  Whereupon  the  author 
—  in  considerable  alarm  —  made  haste  to  secure  the  silence 
of  the  periodical  editor,  and  pursued  his  task  under  a  thick 
cloud  of  mystery. 

Only  two  of  the  Scandalburgh  letters  have  fallen  into 
the  author's  possession,  and  they  are  of  such  an  instructive 
nature  that  he  would  fain  put  them  to  some  good  use. 
After  mature  deliberation,  therefore,  and  with  the  appro 
bation  of  the  publisher,  he  has  resolved  to  incorporate  the 
substance  of  them  into  this  introductory  paper,  —  asking 
of  their  writers  the  pleasant  service  of  ushering  his  book 
before  the  public,  as  an  offset  to  the  ravages  which  their 
strictures  have  committed  upon  his  peace. 

The  first  of  these  letters  purports  to  come  from  "  PHIL 
EMON  PENDERGRASS,  ESQ."  It  opens  like  a  royal  missive, 
with  an  array  of  personal  titles  and  dignities,  together  with 
a  most  perplexing  confession  of  diffidence  —  after  which 


VIII  PRELIMINARY   AND    CRITICAL. 

it  becomes  intelligible.     I  begin   to   transcribe   at   the 
second  paragraph. 

"  Without  further  circumlocution,  I  proceed  to  state  that 
no  small  sensation  has  been  created  in  our  worthy  village, 
by  the  publication,  in  your  journal,  of  those  papers  con 
cerning  '  The  Bubbleton  Parish.'  The  first  thing,  I 
believe,  that  provoked  the  interest  of  our  people,  was  their 
anonymous  character.  It  was  very  annoying  not  to  know 
who  wrote  them.  There  was  an  amazing  exercise  of  con 
jecture.  Our  people,  sir,  have  a  very  inquiring  turn  of 
mind.  They  went,  in  a  body,  to  the  minister's  house,  sup 
posing  that  he  must  be  in  the  secret.  But  he,  excellent 
man !  being  wholly  devoted  to  grave  and  solid  studies,  had 
not  even  read  the  exciting  papers.  Indeed,  so  ear 
nestly  did  he  disavow  all  knowledge  concerning  the  said 
papers,  that  one  of  the  deacons  —  who  prides  himself  on 
his  sagacity  and  knowledge  of  human  nature  quite  as  much 
as  a  deacon  should  —  deliberately  charged  him  with  hav 
ing  written  them  himself,  —  a  charge  which  greatly  dis 
tressed  our  honest  pastor,  both  because  it  implied  a  doubt 
of  his  word,  and  because  it  supposed  him  capable  of '  frit 
tering  away  his  time,'  as  he  said,  in  such  superficial 
employment.  "Well,  as  the  minister  could  give  them  no 
information,  the  people  came  to  me,  with  a  confidence 
quite  flattering.  It  was  very  humiliating  to  confess  my 
self  equally  ignorant,  for  I  remembered  that  I  had  sat  in 
the  State-house,  and  helped  to  support  the  majesty  of  the 
Commonwealth ;  but  I  did  not  know  the  author  of  the 
papers  in  question,  and  condescended  to  tell  my  neighbors 
so,  frankly.  I  have  understood,  by  the  by,  that  several 
of  them  wrote  to  you  on  the  subject ;  but  as  I  have  good 


THE   SCANDALBURGH   CORRESPONDENCE.          IX 

reason  to  believe  that  they  did  not  pay  their  postage,  it  is 
likely  you  never  saw  their  letters  ! 

"  Thus  it  happens,  that,  up  to  this  present  day,  the  author 
of  those  papers  remains  unknown  to  us.  Meantime,  the 
curiosity  of  our  people  has  been  increasing  at  a  frightful 
rate.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  women.  It  is  not 
because  of  any  merit  apparent  in  the  sketches  —  for  in  my 
opinion  they  are  quite  destitute  of  claim  on  that  ground 

—  but  because  there  is  a  secret  connected  with  them.  Our 
town  of  Scandalburgh  is  famous  for  demolishing  secrets. 
It  has  an  amiable  facility  of  looking  through  every  man's 
blinds.     It  holds  to  unlimited  confidence — to  unrestricted 
observation.     Now  in  this  matter,  its  curiosity  is  thwarted, 
and  it  fumes  and  swells  like  the  mill-stream  I  dammed  up 
on  my  new  farm  last  summer  !     You  will  not  wonder  that 
I  share  this  innocent  curiosity,  for  I  am  but  human,  and 

—  I  have  dwelt  all  my  life  in  Scandalburgh.     Would  it 
be  presuming  too  far  on  your  obliging  disposition,  to  ask 
you  to  inform  me,  by  return  of  mail,  who  this  writer  is  ? 
The  secret  shall  be  confined  to  my  own  breast,  if  such 
should  be  your  desire,  and  I  will  baffle  the  anxiety  of  my 
friends  with  the  hardihood  of  a  stoic.     Indeed,  what  right 
has  Scandalburgh  to  claim  all  the  information  possessed  by 
its  Representative  in  the  General  Court  ? 

"  But  our  curiosity  has  reference  to  another  particular : 
Where  is  BUBBLETON  ?  We  have  consulted  three  of  the 
largest  maps  of  the  Commonwealth,  without  the  least  satis 
faction.  My  son,  Adoniram,  who  is  at  the  head  of  the 
geography-class,  thinks  it  must  be  a  new  city,  as  he  has 
never  met  with  it  in  the  course  of  all  his  explorations 
about  his  well-thumbed  atlas  ;  but  the  schoolmaster  —  a 
positive  sort  of  a  man  —  asserts,  very  dogmatically,  that 


X  PRELIMINARY   AND   CRITICAL. 

there  is  no  such  town  at  all !  Now  what  are  we  to  think, 
Mr.  Editor  ?  I  hope  your  anonymous  historian  is  not 
imposing  upon  our  simplicity,  and  exercising  our  interest 
on  a  mere  fiction. 

"  But  this  is  not  all  we  have  to  complain  of.  —  It  seems  to 
us  that  the  unknown  writer  of  those  '  Records  '  is  a  little 
personal  in  some  of  his  descriptions.  I  know  not  a  few 
good  people,  who  consider  themselves  hit  in  some  of  the 
characters  already  drawn,  and  there 's  no  telling  what 
other  innocent  persons  may  be  decoyed  into  this  gentle 
man's  menagerie.  Whoever  he  may  be,  or  however  faith 
fully  he  may  narrate  the  affairs  of  Bubbleton,  I  have  a 
suspicion  that  he  is  not  wholly  ignorant  of  certain  persons 
and  transactions  in  our  own  excellent  parish.  Indeed,  I 
fear  that  the  fidelity  of  his  pictures  may  lead  that  saga 
cious  deacon  of  ours,  to  suspect  the  poor  parson  of  having 
gossipped  about  the  frailties  of  Scandalburgh,  to  this  very 
writer,  and  so  have  become  the  real  author  of  our  con 
fusion  ! 

"  It  seems  to  us,  moreover,  that  the  writer  in  question 
insinuates  certain  mischievous  opinions,  concerning  the 
authority  of  preachers,  their  obligations  to  preach  the 
naked  truth,  and  so  on.  Now  we  are  an  independent 
people  in  Scandalburgh,  and  we  are  resolved  never  to  sub 
mit  to  priestly  dictation.  Our  minister  must  preach  what 
we  want  to  hear,  or  he  can't  preach  anything.  We  won't 
be  made  uncomfortable  in  our  own  church.  If  we  give  a 
minister  his  living,  he  is  bound  to  respect  our  feelings,  and 
not  rake  into  notice  our  little  faults.  A  fine  thing  it 
would  be  —  this  keeping  ministers  and  going  to  church  — 
if  one  were  liable  to  hear  the  bold  truth  about  one's  self, 
and  that  to  his  very  face !  —  Why  many  of  us  would  no 


THE   SCANDALBUKGH   CORRESPONDENCE.         XI 

more  enter  the  church-doors,  with  that  understanding,  than 
a  suspected  thief  would  go  and  pay  his  respects  to  the 
marshal. 

"  No  ;  our  minister  knows  his  place,  and  he  keeps  it.  He 
never  offends  our  self-respect  by  disagreeable  suggestions, 
—  never  peels  our  pride  by  any  home-thrusts  of  Gospel 
logic.  He  is  an  eminently  peaceful  and  submissive  man. 
He  keeps  clear  of  exciting  subjects.  In  a  word,  he  is  just 
such  a  minister  as  we  like ;  for  if  he  is  a  little  long- 
winded  and  foggy  in  his  sermons,  he  is  sure  to  say  noth 
ing  that  can  render  our  nap  uncomfortable  ! 

"  There  is  no  danger  that  he  will  give  us  any  trouble,  I 
think,  unless  the  example  of  that  most  insolent  of  minis 
ters,  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt,  should  pervert  him.  For  you 
should  know,  that  of  late  he  has  taken  to  reading  those 
Bubbleton  sketches,  with  a  suspicious  kind  of  avidity  ;  and 
has  even  been  heard  to  commend  the  character  of  Oracular 
Blunt,  and  to  sigh,  regretfully,  as  he  praised  him  !  I  con 
fess,  Mr.  Editor,  to  a  slight  sense  of  uneasiness,  as  I  con 
sider  the  possible  effect  of  such  admiration.  Just  rein  in 
your  galloping  historian,  will  you  not,  if  you  find  his 
characters  working  mischief  in  our  parish  ? 

"  Were  time  granted  me,  I  trust  I  might  find  much 
more  fault  still  with  those  Records  of  Bubbleton.  I  think, 
for  instance,  that  I  might  prove  them  unpardonably  frivo 
lous, —  a  charge  borne  out  by  the  fact,  that  all  the  young 
people  are  reading  them,  and  expressing  an  unusual  inter 
est  in  the  hero  and  Miss  Arlington." 

This  communication  was  succeeded,  in  due  time,  by  the 
following  erudite  epistle  from  the  REVEREND  OCTAVIUS 
GREEKROOT,  the  venerable  pastor  of  Scandalburgh,  to 


XII  PRELIMINARY   AND   CRITICAL. 

whom  Esquire  Pendergrass  refers  with  such  exquisite  del 
icacy  : 

"  MR.  EDITOR,  —  Inasmuch  as  that  golden-fleeced  and 
wisely-spoken  sheep  of  my  humble  flock  —  Philemon  Pen 
dergrass,  Esquire  —  the  most  worthy  representative  of  the 
town  of  Scandalburgh  in  the  General  Court  of  this  Com 
monwealth — has  been  moved  to  write  you  in  relation  to 
certain  spiritual  matters,  and  more  especially  in  relation 
to  that  apocryphal  account  of  the  troubled  ministry  of  a 
young  disciple  in  Bubbleton,  it  seemed  good  to  me  also  to 
address  you  with  a  brief  communication,  setting  forth  my 
general  estimate  of  the  papers  in  question  —  that  is,  the 
'  Records  of  Bubbleton  Parish,'  —  and  touching  also,  in 
my  concise  style,  upon  a  few  contingent  particulars. 

"  It  is  the  habit  of  certain  of  my  hearers  —  who  have 
been  favored  to  indulge  in  too  much  profane  reading 
(thereby  becoming  somewhat  too  opinionated  and  restive), 
—  to  complain  that  I  allow  too  much  of  my  sermon  to  be 
devoured  by  the  exordium  :  but  you  will  perceive,  by  the 
directness  and  point  of  this  epistle,  how  incapable  I  am  of 
committing  such  an  error  in  the  distribution  of  my  rhetoric. 

"  As  Esquire  Pendergrass  hath  truly  informed  you,  I  was 
not  readily  drawn  to  read  those  curious  writings  concern 
ing  Bubbleton  Parish ;  for  —  happening  to  glance  at  some 
passages  in  one  of  the  earlier  numbers,  that  seemed  to 
savor  of  levity  and  a  satirical  fancy  —  I  thought  it  un 
becoming  the  gravity  of  my  profession  to  occupy  myself 
with  such  reading.  Besides,  I  was  then  perusing  the 
works  of  that  profound  theologian  and  laborious  scholar, 
Ananias  Goldchoke,  and  was  deep  in  the  fifth  volume  of 
his  edifying  treatise  on  the  Architecture  of  the  Celestial 


THE  SCANDALBURGH  CORRESPONDENCE.   XHI 

Mansions.  Howbeit,  having  finished  that  treatise,  and 
read  also,  with  great  profit,  the  same  author's  disquisition 
on  the  Properties  of  the  Wild  Honey  which  John  ate  in 
the  wilderness,  and,  moreover,  feeling  oppressed  by  the 
weight  of  Dr.  Goldchoke's  ponderous  erudition,  —  I  per 
mitted  myself — as  a  recreation,  only  —  to  hear  my 
daughter  read  the  sketches,  so  far  as  they  were  yet  pub 
lished.  Peradventure  I  may  have  been  somewhat  moved 
thereto,  by  the  knowledge  that  my  poor  flock  —  who  know 
not  the  delight  of  grave  and  scholastic  studies — were 
reading  the  papers  with  an  avidity  that  characterizes  the 
pursuits  of  the  frivolous,  and  making  the  most  reckless 
conjectures  respecting  their  authorship.  Since  they  were 
so  commonly  talked  about  among  the  parishioners,  it 
seemed  wise  that  I  should  be  able  to  give  an  intelligible 
opinion  concerning  them,  and  if  I  found  them  likely  to 
prove  mischievous  —  controvert  them  successfully.  For  I 
remembered  having  once  placed  myself  in  rather  an  em 
barrassing  situation,  by  delivering  a  powerful  philippic 
against  novels,  and  afterward  finding  it  impossible  to 
adduce  a  single  work,  or  a  solitary  passage,  in  confirmation 
of  my  broad  assertions.  Subsequently,  however,  I  read 
'  Alonzo  and  Melissa,1  and  the  '  Three  Spaniards,'  and 
felt  myself  adequately  armed  with  authorities. 

"  But,  doubtless,  you  are  impatient  to  know  what  esti 
mate  I  have  formed  of  those  writings. 

"  The  unknown  writer  himself,  will,  peradventure,  lay 
down  his  pen  and  suspend  his  breath,  till  he  hears  the  de 
cision  of  the  old  pastor  of  Scandalburgh. 

"  Howbeit,  I  must  confess  that  opposite  tendencies  do  so 
divide  and  perplex  my  judgment,  that  —  in  the  present 
unfinished  state  of  the  memoir  —  I  find  it  hard  to  offer  an 
2 


XIV  PRELIMINARY    AND   CRITICAL. 

authoritative  and  final  opinion.  I  find  the  work,  like  the 
nature  of  man  and  metals,  to  be  possessed  of  good  and 
evil ;  but  which  the  erudite  and  discriminating  reason  may 
find  to  predominate,  is  hard  to  tell. 

"  I  will,  however,  instance  a  few  evidences  against  it ; 

—  perhaps  it  may  tend  to  abate  and  sober  the  too  evident 
vivacity  of  the  author ;  and  I  dare  say  there  will  be  enough 
less  discerning  critics  to  speak  in  its  favor. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  observe  — what  our  eminent  Kepre- 
eentative,  Esquire  Pendergrass,  hath  noticed  —  that  those 
papers  are  shown  to  be  frivolous,  and  not  the  work  of  a 
well-balanced  understanding,  by  the  very  fact  which,  no 
doubt,  immeasurably  gratifies  the  short-sighted  author  — 
namely,  their  popularity.  Now  I  can  safely  say  that  they 
elicit  more  interest  in  Scandalburgh,  than  the  most  learned 
sermons  I  have  preached  for  the  term  of  fifteen  years. 
Indeed,  it  was  so  late  as  last  Sunday  —  after  I  had  been 
proving,  for  an  hour,  the  indefiniteness  and  capacity  of 
meaning  attached  to  some  of  the  Greek  adjectives,  pre 
paratory  to  the  unfolding  of  a  magnificent  biblical  sermon 

—  that  I  discovered  three  of  my  best  hearers  absorbed  in 
tracing  —  not  the  thread  of  my  argument  (pearl-strung  as 
it  was  with  wise  quotations),  but  the  fortunes  of  the  Bub- 
bleton  minister !     I  must  needs  say  that  the  faculty  of 
interesting  the  ignorant,  is  what  no  wise  man  should  be 
proud  of;  and  that  the  favor  which  those  papers  have 
secured,  reflects  seriously  upon  their  soundness  and  the 
erudition  of  their  author. 

"  It  is  to  be  observed,  yet  further,  in  stating  the  defects 
of  the  work,  that  too  much  space  is  allotted  to  quaint  con 
ceits,  that  provoke  an  unseemly  smile,  and  to  light  dia 
logues,  such  as  any  minister  may  hear  in  his  own  parish. 


THE   SCANDALBURGH   CORRESPONDENCE.         XV 

"  If  the  writer  be  really  a  clergyman,  I  advise  him  to 
repent  of  the  sportive  passages  which  he  has  allowed  to 
creep  into  his  narrative  ;  for  a  minister's  trials  ought  never 
to  be  detailed  but  in  the  most  solemn  manner ;  and  an 
even  tone  of  lugubrious  lamentation  renders  the  effect 
irresistible  —  as  I  know  from  long  experience  with  parish 
committees.  And  as  regards  the  dialogues  —  if  dialogues 
there  must  be  in  such  a  memoir  —  it  would  have  been 
better,  in  my  judgment,  to  have  had  them  turn  upon  some 
problems  of  metaphysics,  or  some  intricate  questions  of  a 
scientific  or  historic  nature.  What  an  admirable  subject, 
for  example,  ethnology  would  have  furnished  for  the  sew 
ing-circle  to  discuss  ! — although  candor  obliges  me  to  admit 
that  I  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  introducing  it  into  the 
Scandalburgh  Circle. 

"  But,  instead  of  these  erudite  themes  —  the  noble  de 
light  of  the"  learned — we  have  in  this  story  endless  de 
bates  about  reforms,  and  the  responsibility  of  ministers  ; 
things,  which  —  while  they  entertain  the  idle  curiosity  of 
superficial  minds,  in  their  rehearsal,  are  so  irritating  and 
disturbing,  in  their  experience,  that  nobody  can  wonder  at 
the  sad  dissensions  that  convulsed  Bubbleton  Parish. 

"  I  am  sure  that,  were  I  to  imitate  that  impulsive  and 
imprudent  young  clergyman,  who  has  been  entertaining  u3 
with  his  misfortunes,  I  should  stir  up  a  rebellion  here  in 
Scandalburgh,  which  all  my  knowledge  would  not  enable 
me  to  quell.  And  I  would  take  this  opportunity  to  warn 
all  youthful  and  inexperienced  ministers,  who  may  be 
reading  the  Records  of  Bubbleton,  against  imitating  the 
rash  independence  which  is  therein  glorified. 

"  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  above  unequivocal  paragraph 
will  calm  whatever  apprehensions  may  have  been  felt  by 


XVI  PRELIMINARY   AND   CRITICAL. 

my  flock,  in  consequence  of  an  inadvertent  allusion  to  me, 
which  occurs  near  the  close  of  Esquire  Pendergrass'  letter. 
That  artless  and  catholic  man  was,  by  the  by,  greatly  con 
founded  by  finding  his  entire  epistle  in  print,  when  he  had 
relied  upon  your  discretion  to  suppress  those  parts  liable 
to  affect  his  popularity  at  home.  I  fear  that  some  of  the 
people  therein  alluded  to,  were  stirred  with  sudden  anger, 
at  their  Representative's  equivocal  mention  of  them.  Even 
I  confess  to  have  been  momentarily  pained,  by  what  had 
the  appearance  of  a  disrespectful  statement  of  my  position ; 
but  Esquire  Pendergrass  came  and  offered  the  amplest  ex 
planations,  which  he  generously  accompanied  with  the 
present  of  the  Patent  Office  Reports,  for  the  present  year, 
— and  so  I  have  the  firmest  assurance  of  the  great  man's 
esteem ! 

"  Do  not  think  that  I  would  discourage  the  completion  of 
the  Bubbleton  Records.  After  all,  I  find  them  pleasant 
reading,  after  having  bowed  all  day  beneath  Dr.  Gold- 
choke's  massive  wisdom.  And  my  wife  reads  them  faith 
fully,  —  sometimes  with  tears  —  for  she  is  a  weak,  good 
woman.  Perhaps  she  remembers  when  we  were  both  in 
our  prime,  and  strong  with  hopes  we  have  never  realized, 
and  purposes  we  have  never  fulfilled.  Possibly  she  re 
members  when  my  views  of  ministerial  responsibility  were 
more  rigid  than  now ;  and  when  —  before  poverty  and 
persecution  had  swept  my  nobler  energies  away,  I  aspired 
to  be  a  truer,  worthier  man ! 

"  Yours,  &c., 

"  OCTAVIUS  GREEKROOT. 


RECORDS 

OF 

THE  BUBBLETON  PARISH. 


I. 

MY    ENGAGEMENT. 

I  HAD  been  in  the  ministry  scarcely  two  years, 
•when  I  received  the  proposition  to  locate  in  Bubble- 
ton.  It  happened  in  this  way  :  While  preaching  in 
the  little  mountain  village  of  C ,  in  New  Hamp 
shire,  I  had  noticed,  during  two  Sundays,  a  strange 
gentleman  seated  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  who  seemed 
to  regard  me  with  peculiar  interest.  He  was  a  portly, 
substantial-looking  individual,  elegantly  dressed,  and 
exhibiting  an  air  of  refinement  altogether  superior  to 
the  majority  of  my  country  congregation.  His  phys 
iognomy  gave  evidence  of  a  man  decided  in  his 
opinions,  and  prompt  and  firm  in  the  execution  of 
his  purposes. 

My  imaginative  people  made  up  their  minds,  at 
once,  that  he  must  be  a  man  of  distinction, —  perhaps 
a  member  of  the  cabinet,  or  an  English  author,  rus 
ticating  incognito. 
2* 


18  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

I  had  been  wondering  not  a  little  who  the  stranger 
could  be,  when,  about  an  hour  after  the  close  of  the 
second  day's  services,  I  was  surprised  by  seeing  him 
enter  my  study.  Apologizing  for  the  inconvenience 
to  which  his  visit  might  subject  me,  he  introduced 
himself  as  Mr.  Arlington,  from  the  first  parish  in 
the  thriving  town  of  Bubbleton,  and  expressed,  in 
very  polite  terms,  the  gratification  he  had  experienced 
from  my  humble  ministrations  of  the  word  of  life. 

"  You  are  not  permanently  located  in  this  town,  I 
am  informed." 

I  answered  that  my  connection  with  the  society  in 
C was  limited. 

"  A  fortunate  thing,"  pursued  Mr.  Arlington. 
' '  Your  abilities  make  you  deserving  of  a  more  com 
manding  post.  This  place  will  never  do." 

I  stammered  something — I  don't  remember  pre 
cisely  what  —  in  answer  to  this  patronizing  compli 
ment,  and  Mr.  Arlington  went  on  : 

"  Now,  there  is  a  vacancy  in  our  parish, —  a  field 
well  adapted  to  your  abilities, —  and  I  have  called  to 
offer  you  the  pastorship.  The  salary  will  be  six 
hundred  dollars,  and,  as  you  have  no  family,  it  will 
be  a  very  handsome  support." 

"But,"  said  I,  with  much  surprise,  "  I  am  not 
known  to  your  people, —  they  have  never  even  seen 
my  face,  or  heard  my  name,  I  presume.  Is  not  this 
rather  premature  ?  " 

Mr.  Arlington  gave  me  a  most  assuring  smile,  as 
he  replied : 


MY    ENGAGEMENT.  19 

{ '  Have  no  fears  from  that  circumstance,  my  dear 
sir.  /  have  both  seen  and  heard  you  with  entire  sat 
isfaction  ;  I  may  say,  I  trust  without  arrogance,  that 
I  know  the  wants  and  wishes  of  our  people ;  and  you 
may  rely  on  their  entire  acquiescence  in  this  arrange 
ment.  It  is  by  no  means  a  difficult  parish." 

I  remained  silent,  trying  to  view  the  proposal 
wisely.  Mr.  Arlington  added : 

"Of  course,  the  business  will  come  before  the 
society  in  a  democratic  manner,  and  you  will  receive 
an  invitation  officially ;  still,  without  waiting  for  such 
action,  you  may  consider  yourself  engaged,  so  far  as 
we  are  concerned  ;  for  I  am  entirely  certain  that  the 
people  will  accept  my  representation  of  the  case." 

This  was  a  new  idea  of  democracy,  to  be  sure  ; 
but  I  was  a  young  man,  then,  of  a  hopeful  disposi 
tion,  and  trusted  that  all  would  be  right.  Mr.  Ar 
lington  had  a  confident'  way  of  expressing  himself, 
and  the  assurance  he  gave  was  very  weighty  in  my 
mind. 

As  my  reflections  were  rather  confused,  I  proposed 
to  consider  the  matter  until  the  following  day ;  but 
Mr.  Arlington  purposed  leaving  town  in  the  morning 
coach,  which  started  at  four  o'clock,  and  "  would  feel 
exceedingly  obliged  by  an  immediate  decision." 

To  promote  this  end,  and  also  to  induce  a  decision 
favorable  to  his  wishes,  Mr.  Arlington  launched  into 
a  glowing  description  of  the  natural,  social,  com 
mercial,  and  spiritual  attractions  of  Bubbleton.  That 
he  appealed  to  my  ambition,  and  flattered  my  self- 


20  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

esteem,  I  cannot  conscientiously  deny ;  and  that  he 
carried  his  point,  none  of  my  readers  who  recollect 
the  title  of  these  records  will  be  surprised  to  learn. 

After  the  gentleman  had  taken  his  leave,  I  sat  for 
a  long  time  reflecting  on  the  engagement.  My 
thoughts  were  not  altogether  agreeable.  It  was  not 
the  idea  of  forming  a  new  connection  that  affected 
me,  —  I  had  long  anticipated  a  change  of  this  nature : 
but  I  felt  that  I  had  been  precipitate,  and  influenced, 
perhaps,  by  motives  not  strictly  in  accordance  with 
the  requisitions  of  my  office.  I  had  made  it  too 
much  an  affair  of  business,  and  had  suffered  my  im 
agination  to  be  dazzled,  and  my  ambition  excited. 
As  I  recalled  the  words  and  manner  of  Mr.  Arling 
ton,  I  felt  that  he  was  not  a  man  formed  on  the 
highest  Christian  model,  nor  one  on  whom  a  good 
minister  could  safely  rely,  through  the  vicissitudes  of 
a  pastoral  career.  The  feelings  which  he  had  roused 
in  my  heart  during  our  brief  interview  were  such  as 
to  alarm  me,  when  I  came  to  analyze  them,  and  to 
trace  them  to  their  source  ;  and  I  asked  myself  what 
would  be  the  effect,  on  my  own  character,  of  con 
tinued  intercourse  with  such  an  individual. 

Other  questions,  which  might  well  have  been  sug 
gested,  did  not  then  arise ;  but  I  saw  enough  in  the 
prospective  connection  to  give  me  serious  uneasiness, 
and  I  spent  the  night  in  revolving  possible  contin 
gencies. 

Little  more  than  a  month  later,  from  one  of  the 
eminences  that  bound  the  growing  town,  I  obtained 


MY    ENGAGEMENT.  21 

my  first  view  of  Bubbleton.  I  had  come  to  take 
charge  of  a  parish  of  whose  circumstances  and  wants 
I  was  totally  ignorant,  and  only  one  of  whose  mem 
bers  I  had  ever  seen. 

I  had  resided  nearly  all  my  life  in  an  obscure 
country  home,  and  had  anticipated  no  more  con 
spicuous  field  of  labor  than  might  be  presented  in  a 
quiet  village  parish.  As  the  coach  of  which  I  was  a 
passenger  rolled  through  the  busy  streets  of  Bubble- 
ton,  the  sight  of  the  thick  and  hurrying  population, 
with  their  nervous  movements  and  anxious  counte 
nances,  and  the  thought  that  my  own  life  was,  hence 
forth,  in  some  sort,  to  be  identified  with  theirs, 
oppressed  me  with  a  feeling  of  overpowering  so 
lemnity;  and,  with  as  great  a  sense  of  weakness  as  I 
ever  realized,  I  silently  implored  the  help  of  the 
Lord,  and  the  guidance  of  hia  wisdom. 


II. 

MY   PREDECESSOR. 

I  ALIGHTED  at  Mr.  Arlington's  door,  whose  guest 
I  was  expected  to  be  for  several  days,  preparatory  to 
the  arrangement  of  a  permanent  home. 

I  found  this  gentleman  living  on  a  scale  of  luxury 
and  magnificence  that  I  had  never  seen  equalled  in 
my  limited  observation.  He  was  evidently  a  man  of 
no  inconsiderable  wealth  and  social  importance.  He 
received  me  in  the  most  cordial  manner,  as  did  his 
family  also,  which  consisted  of  a  wife,  two  sons  and  a 
daughter, —  all  of  whom  appeared  well  bred,  accom 
plished  and  agreeable. 

After  tea  —  for  it  was  evening  when  I  arrived  — 
Mr.  Arlington  sat  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  con 
versing  on  society  affairs.  Nothing  could  be  more 
charming  than  the  mild,  musical  tones  of  his  voice, 
and  the  bland,  smiling  expression  of  his  face,  as  he 
spoke  of  the  history,  condition  and  prospects,  of  the 
•parish.  A  thorough  amiability  distinguished  every 
word  and  movement  of  the  man.  He  seemed  to  live 
in  a  halo  of  beneficence. 

And  yet  I  perceived  an  indescribable  something  in 
the  man  that  made  me  distrustful.  I  thought  there 


MY    PKEDECESSOR.  23 

was  that  in  his  nature  that  he  would  not  like  to  re 
veal.  I  thought  him  an  accomplished  tactician,  but 
not  entirely  sound  in  his  principles.  At  all  events,  I 
did  not  feel  warranted  in  giving  him  my  utmost  confi 
dence.  Still,  I  was  but  a  young  man,  who  had  seen 
but  little  of  the  world,  and  whose  disposition  was 
naturally  trustful. 

"  Our  late  worthy  pastor,  Brother  Stringent,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Arlington,  after  we  had  conversed  about 
an  hour,  • '  though  an  able  man,  failed  to  appreciate 
the  feelings  of  his  people  on  certain  important  sub 
jects.  He  was  rather  hasty,  and,  as  some  thought,  a 
little  too  dictatorial." 

I  said  nothing  in  answer  to  this,  and  he  presently 
resumed : 

"  Our  people  generally  prefer  to  have  their  minis 
ter  set  forth  the  principles  of  the  Gospel  in  a  forcible 
and  attractive  manner,  instead  of  indulging  in  direct 
allusions,  which  are  apt  to  irritate  the  feelings  and 
provoke  discord,  as  you  know.  They  want  the  Gos 
pel  preached  in  a  thorough  and  pleasing  manner ; 
they  believe  in  the  Gospel  of  Christ  as  the  only  means 
whereby  men  can  be  saved  ;  and*  it  grieves  them  to 
see  a  minister  disregard  the  apostolic  method,  and  dis 
cuss  in  the  pulpit  irritating  themes,  such  as  can  only 
mar  the  peace  of  a  congregation,  and  disturb  the  unity 
of  Christian  sentiment." 

"  That  was  Brother  Stringent's  offence,  I  suppose," 
said  I. 

' '  Precisely  so.    Brother  Stringent  lacked  patience : 


24  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

he  could  not  wait  for  Gospel  principles  to  develop 
themselves,  but  sought  to  hasten  the  appointed  time 
of  the  Lord,  by  a  somewhat  injudicious  APPLICATION 
OF  THE  GOSPEL,  as  he  termed  it,  to  particular  exi 
gences.  Now,  as  I  said,  our  people  desire,  above  all 
things,  to  hear  Gospel  preaching ;  they  have  faith 
in  the  Gospel  that  it  will  ultimately  fill  the  world  and 
extinguish  all  sin ;  and  it  grieved  them  to  discover  in 
their  pastor  a  virtual  distrust  of  its  efficacy,  and  a 
presumptuous  desire  to  precipitate  it  to  an  issue 
evidently  at  variance  with  the  arrangements  of  Prov 
idence." 

My  astonishment  at  this  extraordinary  statement 
of  the  case  may  be  imagined. 

Mr.  Arlington  continued,  with  the  same  unruffled 
serenity : 

"  Of  course,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  reason  with 
our  pastor,  in  reference  to  the  course  he  was  pursu 
ing  ;  but  he  was  quite  past  conviction.  I  advised 
him  not  to  anticipate  too  sudden  a  harvest  of  right 
eousness  ;  reminded  him  that  men's  hearts  were  obdu 
rate,  and  that  the  progress  of  the  Gospel  is  gradual ; 
exhorted  him  to  have  more  confidence  in  the  power 
of  divine  grace,  and  more  patience  with  the  infirmities 
of  fellow-beings.  '  Preach  the  everlasting  Gospel, 
Brother  Stringent,'  I  said,  'and  let  things  take  their 
course.  Fret  not  thyself  because  of  evil-doers. 
Don't  get  into  strife  with  the  brethren.  Soft  words, 
gentle  methods,  are  most  successful  in  winning  souls.' 
But,  as  I  said,  the  good  man  was  past  conviction. 


MY    PREDECESSOR.  25 

He  was  fairly  mounted  on  the  hobby  of  reform.  He 
even  taunted  me  with  being  a  timeserver,  and  said  I 
made  the  Gospel  an  abstraction.  He  differed  from  me 
entirely  respecting  the  course  pursued  by  Christ  and 
his  apostles,  and  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  no  minis 
ter,  now-a-days,  could  imitate  their  plainness  and 
severity,  without  being  dismissed  from  his  charge. 
We  endured  this  rashness,  for  several  weeks,  with 
Christian  patience, —  for  we  are  not  a  difficult  people, 
and,  moreover,  Brother  Stringent  is  a  man  of  power, 
and  was  admired  throughout  the  city.  But,  finally, 
the  matter  became  too  serious,  and  we  could  hesitate 
no  longer  as  to  our  duty." 

"Was  he  actually  dismissed  by  the  parish?"  I 
inquired. 

"  It  came  very  nearly  to  that,  I  believe,"  answered 
Mr.  Arlington,  smiling  more  benignly  than  ever. 
"  But  the  provocation  was  great.  It  was  last  July 
that  he  ventured  to  preach  a  discourse  on  national 
affairs.  He  undertook  to  show  that  we  were  all  im 
plicated  in  the  sin  of  American  slavery,  and  he  paint 
ed  that  alleged  sin  and  its  consequences  in  such  colors 
as  to  seriously  offend  the  national  pride  of  our  people. 
It  was  a  dreadfully  humiliating  discourse ;  and  what 
rendered  it  particularly  repugnant  to  me,  was  the  cir 
cumstance  of  my  having  an  English  friend  in  my 
pew,  on  this  very  occasion.  Any  true  American 
may  imagine  my  feelings.  That  unfortunate  sermon 
confirmed  all  the  prejudices  of  my  friend  ;  he  called 
it  the  noblest  confession  he  ever  heard  from  a  Yan- 


26  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

kee's  lips ;  and,  after  that,  he  found  nothing  in  all 
our  glorious  land  but  cupidity  and  oppression." 

I  could  not  but  acknowledge  that  the  circumstance 
must  have  been  extremely  annoying  to  one  anxious 
for  his  country's  reputation. 

"  Indeed,  sir,  it  was  no  less,"  pursued  Mr.  Arling 
ton  ;  "and,  besides,  the  selection  of  Scripture  which 
he  read  on  the  occasion  was  injudicious.  It  was  the 
first  part  of  the  thirty-third  chapter  of  Ezekiel ;  and 
the  idea  implied  was,  that  our  noble  country  is  another 
apostate  Judea,  on  the  verge  of  a  destruction  which 
its  wickedness  has  provoked  !  " 

Mr.  Arlington  spoke  with  the  utmost  calmness, 
benignly  smiling  all  the  time ;  but  it  was  evident  that 
he  had  a  proper  sense  of  the  heinousness  of  his  late 
pastor's  conduct. 

I  inquired  whether  the  parish  were  unanimous  in 
their  disapproval  of  Brother  Stringent' s  views  and 
course. 

"Not  entirely,"  was  the  reply, —  a  little  reluc 
tantly  given,  I  thought, — "there  were  two  or  three 
obscure  members  who  were  in  favor  of  supporting  the 
pastor ;  —  men  of  no  very  comprehensive  views,  I 
ought  to  say,  perhaps,  but  a  little  too  radical  in  their 
feelings  to  promote  harmony  in  the  parish.  You  will 
understand  their  characters  best  when  I  inform  you 
that  they  are  total-abstinence  men,  and  that  they 
insist  on  the  immediate  abolition  of  slavery !  But 
every  cause  will  have  its  adherents,  particularly  in 
our  free  country,"  concluded  Mr.  Arlington,  with  an 


MY   PREDECESSOR.  27 

air  of  philosophical  serenity.  His  was  admirable 
resignation ! 

"And  do  these  men  retain  their  connection  with 
the  society  still?" 

"  One  of  them  has  left ;  he  is  a  rash-spoken  man, 
and  has  a  number  of  uncharitable  things  to  say  about 
us.  He  goes  up  to  Boston  to  all  the  Garrison  meet 
ings,  and  is  very  fond  of  declaiming  about  the  guilt 
and  danger  of  the  nation.  The  others  thought  it  best 
to  remain,  and  see  what  sort  of  a  pastor  the  parish 
would  settle  next :  I  suppose  they  will  govern  them 
selves  according  to  their  impressions  concerning  you. 
One  of  these  I  would  desire  to  retain  permanently, 
for  he  is  engaged  in  a  lucrative  business,  and  his 
social  relations  are  such  as  tend  to  enhance  the  re 
spectability  and  influence  of  the  society.  Still,  I 
trust  that  the  disposition  of  these  brethren  will  occa 
sion  you  no  trouble, —  indeed,  it  should  not ;  for  our 
people  will  stand  by  you  firmly  and  faithfully,  and 
enable  you  to  preach  the  Gospel  with  power.  All  in 
all,  it  is  not  a  difficult  parish." 

I  made  no  reply,  for  I  felt  my  courage  sinking 
every  instant. 

Other  topics  were  now  introduced,  in  which  the 
family  joined,  and  the  conversation  became  general. 
Later  in  the  evening,  Miss  Arlington  favored  me  with 
several  popular  songs,  with  accompaniments  on  the 
piano.  The  young  lady  had  a  splendid  voice,  and 
was  thought  to  execute  with  superior  taste  ;  but  I  am 
no  judge  of  music.  All  I  can  affirm  is,  that  her 


28  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

genius  failed  to  dissipate  the  clouds  that  brooded  over 
my  spirit. 

It  was  Saturday  evening,  and  I  retired  at  eleven, 
thinking  dubiously  of  the  morrow.  There  were  two 
alarms  of  fire  during  the  night,  and  I  dreamed  of 
being  arraigned  before  Mr.  Arlington  in  an  ecclesias 
tical  court,  for  preaching  contrary  to  the  gospel  of 
Bubbleton. 


III. 

MY  FIRST   SUNDAY  IN   BUBBLETON. 

A  CLEAR,  delightful  morning  initiated  my  first 
Sabbath  at  Bubbleton.  I  arose,  if  not  refreshed  by 
my  unquiet  slumber,  at  least  gladdened  and  encour 
aged  by  the  pleasant  aspect  of  the  day.  From  one 
of  the  windows  of  my  chamber,  I  counted  ten  church- 
spires  glistening  in  the  sun.  The  noise  of  toil  and 
strife  had  ceased.  Mammon,  as  if  satiated  with  hom 
age,  had  withdrawn  into  the  dingy  recesses  of  his 
'temple.  The  holy  day  had  come.  The  symbols  of 
its  nobler  service,  rising  above  the  quiet  town,  shone 
winningly  in  the  sky. 

"  We  shall  have  a  splendid  congregation  to-day," 
observed  Mr.  Arlington,  as  we  sat  breakfasting. 

"People  have  every  inducement  for  coming  out 
that  fine  weather  can  present,  to  say  the  least," 
responded  his  wife. 

"  They  will  find  that  that  is  not  the  greatest  in 
ducement,  I  trust,"  rejoined  Mr.  Arlington,  with  a 
smile  of  patronizing  significance. 

I  could  not  help  thinking  that  this  man  regarded 
me  very  much  as  a  manager  might  regard  a  promis 
ing  actor,  on  whose  supposed  powers  he  had  staked 
3* 


30  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

his  judgment  and  his  money.  Evidently,  my  claim 
to  ministerial  fitness  was  based  on  my  ability  to  please, 
to  delight  my  hearers.  But,  suppose  my  hearers 
were  sinners,  and  suppose  I  were  to  remind  them  of 
the  fact,  now  and  then,  according  to  the  old  apostolic 
usage, — what  then  1  Would  that  please  and  delight 
them?  Doubtful. 

The  hour  of  service  arrived.  I  found  the  church 
in  which  I  had  agreed  to  officiate  a  beautiful  edifice, 
moderately  large,  and  pleasantly  located  at  the  junc 
tion  of  two  fine  streets.  After  having  been  intro 
duced  to  about  twenty  brethren,  who  seemed  to  have 
been  waiting  my  arrival,  in  the  porch,  I  was  permitted 
to  pass  up  the  aisle  and  enter  the  pulpit. 

The  church  was  filled.  The  first  sight  of  the  new 
pastor  justified,  perhaps,  some  little  sensation ;  but 
scarcely  all  the  observations,  I  think,  that  were 
being  whispered  through  that  large  audience  concern 
ing  him. 

Amid  all  the  bewildering  multitude  of  faces  that 
were  directed  toward  the  pulpit,  how  few  indicated 
any  consciousness  of  the  proprieties  and  demands  of 
such  a  place  !  Did  the  people  feel  that  they  were  be 
fore  God  ?  No ;  God  was  scarcely  in  their  thoughts. 
Had  they  come  to  worship?  By  no  means;  they 
had  come  to  see  the  new  preacher.  Did  they  desire 
instruction,  enforcements  of  duty,  appeals  to  their 
consciences,  persuasions  towards  excellence  ?  Not  at 
all;  they  desired  amusement.  Curiosity,  not  devo 
tion,  was  their  predominant  trait. 


MY   FIRST   SUNDAY   IN   BUBBLETON.  31 

Nevertheless,  there  was  that  in  this  vehement  curi 
osity,  which,  while  it  humiliated  the  minister,  excited 
and  inspired  the  man.  I  had  never  preached  before 
with  such  an  impulse  of  intoxicating  emotion. 

In  the  afternoon  the  audience  reminded  me  of  a 
mass  meeting.  The  aisles  were  seated.  There  was, 
evidently,  considerable  excitement.  In  a  prominent 
pew,  luxuriously  furnished,  sat  Mr.  Arlington,  with 
his  family, —  an  expression  of  proud  satisfaction  mark 
ing  his  countenance. 

During  the  delivery  of  the  sermon,  I  observed  him 
occasionally  glancing  aside,  as  if  to  mark  the  effect  of 
certain  expressions  on  the  minds  of  different  individu 
als.  The  examination  seemed  generally  satisfactory, 
and  he  would  resume  his  attentive  attitude  with  more 
complacency  than  ever.  It  was  a  triumph,  to  see  his 
own  judgment  of  the  preacher  so  spontaneously  rati 
fied  by  the  congregation. 

«/ 

While  speaking,  however,  my  eyes  were  attracted 
to  one  hearer,  who  did  not  appear  to  agree  with  the 
majority  of  the  audience  in  their  estimate  of  the 
preacher.  He  was  a  small  man,  with  sharp,  boldly- 
marked  features,  that  wore,  on  this  occasion,  a  scowl 
of  emphatic  disapprobation.  He  sat  quite  restlessly 
during  the  preaching,  and  when  the  discourse  was 
ended,  bolted  out  of  the  church,  without  waiting  for 
anthem  or  benediction. 

Unable  to  account  for  so  marked  an  exhibition  of 
dislike,  I  mentioned  the  circumstance,  after  service, 
to  Mr.  Arlington.  He  had  not  seen  the  individual, 


32  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

but,  upon  my  describing  him,  he  exclaimed,  "with  a 
benign  indifference : 

"0,  it  must  have  been  Brother  Peppery;  he  is 
one  of  the  radicals  I  spoke  to  you  about  last  night  — 
the  man  who  has  left  us  to  our  fate.     But  never  mind, 
—  he  can  do  nothing." 

"  But  I  cannot  see  how  my  sermon  should  have  so 
displeased  him." 

"  Ah,  it  was  n't  the  sermon ;  though,  perhaps,  he 
may  allege  something  of  that  kind ;  it  was  your  suc 
cess  that  irritated  him." 

"  My  success  ?     I  don't  understand  how  that  — 

"  Why,  you  must  recollect  that  Peppery  was  a 
particular  admirer  of  Brother  Stringent,  whom,  accord 
ing  to  his  statement,  the  parish  drove  away.  Now,  a 
preacher  who  pleases  the  parish  must  be  a  different 
man  from  Brother  Stringent,  and,  consequently,  a 
man  whom  Brother  Peppery  cannot  like.  The  mo 
ment,  therefore,  he  perceived  that  you  were  likely  to 
suit  the  views  of  the  society,  he  made  up  his  mind 
that  you  would  not  suit  his.  You  see  how  it  is? " 

"He  must  be  a  hasty  man;  how  does  he  know 
but—" 

"It  is  impossible  to  manage  him.  His  head  is 
turned  by  preposterous  notions  of  reform.  Garriso- 
nianism  has  ruined  him." 

In  the  evening,  there  being  no  service,  several  mem 
bers  of  the  parish  came  in,  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  the  new  minister,  and  talk  over  the  prospects  of  the 
society  under  my  administration. 


MY   FIRST   SUNDAY   IN   BUBBLETON.  33 

"  What  a  superb  congregation !  "  became  a  stereo 
typed  remark. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say  to  our  pastor,"  ob 
served  a  Mr.  Wilkins,  ' '  that  his  discourses  gave,  so 
far  as  I  can  learn,  the  most  entire  satisfaction." 

"0,  I  am  sure  they  did,"  said  a  Miss  Lark, —  a 
young  lady  whose  personal  attractions  I  had  remarked, 
—  "  they  reminded  me  of  the  poems  of  Moore-." 

Reminded  her  of  the  poems  of  Moore !  I  was 
never  more  confounded.  What  had  I  been  preach 
ing  about  ?  Or,  was  the  young  lady  given  to  irony  1 

Nobody  else  seemed  to  observe  the  singularity  of 
the  comparison.  They  went  on. 

One  considered  our  prosperity  secured,  in  spite  of 
the  forebodings  of  others, —  me,n  of  little  faith,  who 
did  not  happen  to  be  present. 

Another  rejoiced  over  the  confusion  of  the  radical 
party. 

Mr.  Wilkins  congratulated  himself  on  the  belief 
that  we  should  now  "  draw  in  the  young  people;"  and 
Mr.  Arlington  was  confident  that  we  should  "  take  a 
leading  position." 

Mr.  Harris  thought  that  we  should  "  draw"  from 
the  Episcopal  church,  the  new  rector  of  which  was 
troubled  with  a  diseased  throat. 

Mr.  Gleason  had  heard  that  the  people  at  the  West 
End  were  in  "hot  water"  with  their  minister;  and 
he  presumed  we  might  "  recruit "  some  in  that  quar 
ter, —  a  hint  which  was  thought  worthy  of  being  im 
proved. 


34:  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

Mr.  Fiscal  believed  that  it  was  a  good  time  to  raise 
the  taxes  on  pews. 

To  all  this  I  listened,  with  growing  astonishment 
and  perplexity. 

I  was  but  a  young  man,  the  reader  will  recollect, — 
just  arrived  from  the  country,  and  retaining  yet  the 
impression  of  country  usages ;  I  was  ignorant  of  many 
of  the  methods  by  which  religion  is  practised  and 
disseminated  in  cities.  Some  early  prejudices  were 
to  be  removed,  ere  I  could  hope  to  fee'l  precisely  recon 
ciled  to  these  new  customs. 

"When  shall  the  installation  take  place  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Wilkins. 

"  The  sooner  the  better,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Glea- 
son ;  ' '  the  community  ought  to  know  that  we  are  up 
and  doing." 

"  What  does  our  pastor  say  1 "  demanded  Mr.  Ar 
lington. 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  the  subject." 

"  Suppose  we  say  next  Sunday  evening.  Would 
that  be  too  soon?" 

"  Rather  soon,  it  seems  to  me.  I  should  prefer  to 
delay  it  a  month,  at  least." 

"  That  seems  a  long  time.  The  people  are  ready 
for  the  service  already." 

"  I  thank  them  for  their  ready  confidence;  but  a 
service  that  implies  so  permanent  a  relation  between 
pastor  and  people  ought  not  to  take  place  premature 
ly.  Let  us  postpone  the  installation  until  we  shall 
have  matured  the  acquaintance  somewhat." 


MY  FIEST  SUNDAY   IN   BUBBLETON.  35 

"  Well,  be  it  so,"  said  Mr.  Arlington ;  "  I  am  not 
afraid  that  the  interest  will  decline,  if  the  service  is 
postponed.  In  the  mean  time,  I  will  see  Brother  Re- 
sounder,  and  engage  him  to  preach  the  sermon." 

And  thus  passed  my  first  Sunday  at  Bubbleton. 


IT. 

I   RECEIVE   A   VISIT. 

THE  next  morning,  while  I  was  employed  in  writing 
a  letter,  a  middle-aged  gentleman,  with  a  small  cane 
and  a  bundle,  walked  into  the  room,  and,  extending 
his  hand,  introduced  himself  as  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt, 
the  pastor  of  a  small  parish  in  the  neighboring  town 
of  D . 

"  I  heard  you  were  to  begin  the  campaign  yester 
day,"  he  said;  "  and  so  I  thought  I  'd  ride  over  this 
morning,  and  pay  you  a  brotherly  call.  At  the  same 
time  —  availing  myself  of  the  opportunity  —  I  have 
bought  a  little  merchandise  for  my  wife," — pointing 
to  the  bundle. 

I  thanked  him  heartily  for  having  been  so  thought 
ful  as  to  come  and  see  me,  thus  early;  for  I  was 
anxious,  of  course,  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  my 
ministerial  neighbors,  all  of  whom  were  personally 
unknown  to  me.  I  had  heard  Brother  Oracular 
Blunt  mentioned  as  a  faithful  minister,  though  a  little 
conceited,  and  considerably  eccentric. 

"I  never  met  you  before,"  he  remarked,  taking 
possession  of  the  seat  I  had  placed  for  him ;  •''  you 
look  young  for  a  place  like  this." 


I   RECEIVE   A   VISIT.  37 

"I  fear  that  I  am  quite  too  young  for  the  place," 
said  I. 

"  However,  you  will  be  older  before  you  leave  — 
in  experience,  at  least." 

"  Yes.  undoubtedly." 

"  This  parish  generally  succeeds  in  maturing  its 
ministers." 

"  Mr.  Arlington  tells  me  it  is  not  a  difficult  par 
ish." 

"  I  dare  say  he  does.  I  believe  dictators  are  not 
commonly  difficult  —  to  please  —  if  they  are  permitted 
to  have  their  own  way." 

"  You  make  me  a  little  apprehensive.     I  hope — " 

"  Never  mind;  since  the  world  is  to  be  saved,  the 
Gospel  must  be  preached.  A  cargo  of  missionaries 
have  been  sent  to  Burmah,  and  —  you  have  been  sent 
to  Bubbleton.  The  Lord  only  knows  which  has  the 
most  promising  field !  The  Jews  rejected  their 
prophets,  and  so  does  Bubbleton ;  but  I  suppose  God 
will  have  mercy  on  both,  at  last."  , 

"  Really,  you  suggest  some  very  comforting  ideas ! " 

"  Never  mind,  I  say.  the  world  must  be  convert 
ed—" 

"  And  martyrdom  is  not  yet  become  obsolete." 

"  —  The  world  must  be  converted,  and  somebody 
must  bear  the  idiotic  vanities  of  this  stiff-necked  gen 
eration.  Why  not  you,  as  well  as  anybody  else? 
Since,  by  a  mysterious  ordinance  of  Providence,  Bub 
bleton  and  the  Sandwich  Islands  happen  to  lie  within 
the  province  which  the  Almighty  has  promised  to  an- 
4 


38  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

nex  to  his  kingdom,  wh  y,  we  must  all  do  what  we  can 
to  civilize  both,  and  so  prepare  his  way  !  " 

I  laughed ;  but,  really,  the  observation  had  no  very 
pleasant  sound  to  my  ears. 

"  Is  the  reputation  of  the  parish,  then,  so  very 
bad?"  I  inquired. 

"  Not  so  bad  as  it  might  be;  it  has  a  few  just 
men." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Rather  more  than  were  found  in  Sodom,  I  think ; 
so  you  need  not  fear  that  the  Lord  will  consume  it, 
at  least  while  it  remains  in  your  charge." 

He  had  spoken  with  an  expression  of  countenance 
indicating  perfect  seriousness.  His  eccentricity  was 
a  little  puzzling  to  one  who,  like  myself,  happened 
to  be  a  stranger  to  its  freaks.  I  looked  at  him,  in 
silence. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  there  are  some  just-minded 
men  in  your  parish,  but  you  will  not  fall  in  with  them 
just  yet.  They  are  modest,  and  will  allow  themselves 
to  be  thrust  aside.  You  will  see  only  the  managers 
for  the  first  few  weeks.  There  are  sensible  women  in 
the  parish ;  but  don't  expect  to  hear  a  word  from  their 
lips  under  three  months.  You  will  first  be  taken  up 
by  the  frivolous,  the  lackadaisical,  the  languishing 
caste, —  those  who  admire  a  preacher's  voice  —  if  it 
be  agreeable  —  more  than  the  truth  he  utters,  a'nd 
who  would  give  all  that  Paul  ever  wrote  concerning 
the  grace  of  God,  for  another  poem  in  the  style  of 
Lalla  Rookh  or  of  Mazeppa  !  I  exhort  you  to  endure 


I   RECEIVE   A   VISIT.  39 

the  distracting  nonsense  and  chaotic  babbling  of 
these  dear  ladies,  with  all  patience  and  long-suffering. 
A  wiser  generation  will  doubtless  provide  a  suitable 
asylum  for  all  such  unfortunates ;  but.  so  long  as  they 
remain  at  large,  one  must  be  merciful  to  their  infirmi 
ties  !  Only,  remember  to  adopt  and  follow  this  rule, 
that  whatever  they  recommend  or  suggest  for  you  to 
do  is  in  all  cases  to  be  avoided,  as  being  preposterous 
and  illegitimate  counsel !  " 

Thus  he  went  on,  amusing,  alarming,  and  annoy 
ing  me,  by  turns. 

"But  don't  let  me  discourage"  you,"  he  resumed; 
' ;  it  is  a  good  place  for  discipline,  after  all.  What 
says  our  lyrical  Lord  Byron,  whom  you  are  destined 
to  hear  quoted  so  often  ?  — 

'  The  rugged  metal  of  the  mine 
Must  burn  before  its  surface  shine.' 

This  was  not  said  in  allusion  to  ministers,  I  grant,  — 
yet  it  applies  to  them  very  well.  Allow  that  Bubble- 
ton  proves  a  sort  of  crucible  to  you  —  all  the  gold 
there  is  in  your  nature  will  become  brighter  for  the 
trial.  Suffering  is  God's  favorite  process  for  perfect 
ing  his  ministers.  You  suggested;  a  while  ago,  that 
martyrdom  is  not  yet  obsolete.  'T  is  very  true.  The 
martyrdoms  of  the  early  church  were  symbolical  of 
the  sufferings  ordained  for  the  ministry  of  Christ,  in 
all  ages.  The  man  who  is  comfortable,  in  the  ordi 
nary  sense  of  that  term,  while  pursuing  this  vocation, 
must  be  unfaithful  to  its  demands.  It  is  a  life  of 


40  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

unceasing  sacrifices  —  of  never-ending  toil.  It  &  a 
warfare  —  a  crusade  against  the  idols  which  mankind 
worship,  the  false  deities  they  adore. 

"Is  it  to  be  expected  that  they  will  make  him 
happy  while  he  is  thus  overturning  their  gods  ?  De 
pend  upon  it,  they  are  not  so  grateful  for  the  service 
he  renders  them.  They  sooner  put  him  out  of  the 
synagogue. 

"  Still,  these  trials  are  neither  to  be  avoided  nor 
boasted  of.  They  "have  their  use,  else  God  would 
never  have  imposed  them.  And,  since  they  benefit 
us,  it  is  scarcely  modest  to  boast  of  the  courage  with 
which  we  receive  them." 

I  was  silent,  and  he  presently  continued : 

"I  should  not  have  favored  you  with  this  tirade 
against  Bubbleton,  and  this  lecture  on  martyrdom, 
had  it  not  been  for  an  accidental  meeting  with  Mr. 
Fiscal,  this  morning.  The  worldly  enthusiasm  and 
gross  calculation  which  that  man  carries  into  his 
church,  stirs  my  spirit  with  indignation. 

"  He  would  have  the  affairs  of  God's  church  con 
ducted  in  such  a  manner  as  to  imply  that  there  is  no 
God  in  the  universe.  He  is  as  far  from  Christ  as  a 
Papist.  He  ought  to  be  a  pedler  of  indulgences. 

"The  tone  in  which  he  spoke  of  the  services  of 
yesterday,  of  your  abilities,  and  of  the  expectations 
of  the  parish,  reminded  me  of  an  auctioneer.  Unfor 
tunately,  there  are  but  too  many  others  in  the  congre 
gation  who  resemble  him.  They  exhibit  the  same 
mercenary  spirit  in  the  affairs  of  the  church,  that 


I   RECEIVE  A   VISIT.  41 

marks  their  business  pursuits.  They  think,  not  of 
the  conversion  of  the  world,  but  of  the  aggrandize 
ment  of  the  parish;  not  of  character,  but  fashion." 

I  admitted  that  I  had  been  forced  to  the  same  con 
clusion. 

"  I  am  glad  you  see  the  matter  in  its  true  light," 
he  resumed.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you,  talk  with  you, 
and  find  out  what  stuff  you  are  made  of.  After  the 
provocation  of  this  morning,  I  wanted  to  preach  a 
little,  and  I  wanted,  if  possible,  a  sensible  hearer.  I 
know  something  of  this  parish,  having  observed  its 
movements  during  some  ten  years.  I  know  that  it 
will  spoil  a  weak  minister,  and  expel  a  wilful  one.  I 
hope  to  God,  for  your  own  sake  and  that  of  Bubble- 
ton,  that  you  are  neither  one  nor  the  other." 

I  thanked  him  sincerely  for  the  kind  interest  and 
good  sense  which  his  language  and  mariner  exhibited. 
I  began  to  admire  his  blunt  frankness.  There  was 
an  air  of  sturdy  Christian  manliness  about  him,  that 
became  more  and  more  conspicuous. 

He  arose  to  go. 

"  My  own  little  parish  is  only  three  miles  distant," 
he  observed;  "and,  soon  as  you  can  get  away  with 
propriety,  come  over  and  see  where  I  live." 

"  I  should  be  most  happy  — " 

"  Don't  look  after  any  needless  formalities.  Of 
course,  I  shall  watch  your  progress  with  much  in 
terest.  By  and  by,  if  you  please,  we  will  have  an 
exchange.  True,  I  am  not  very  popular  in  your 
parish, —  they  complain  that  I  am  frightfully  bold, 
4* 


42  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

and  all  that ;  but  they  will  submit  to  a  sermon  or  two, 
once  a  year, —  that  is,  those  who  don't  leave  the 
church  when  they  see  me  enter  the  pulpit." 

"Never  mind,"  said  I;  "we  will  exchange,  not 
withstanding." 

"And  some  day,  Brother  Resounder  will  preach  for 
them,  and  charm  away  the  rankling  memory  of  my 
homely  truths.  Well,  one  finds  difficulties  in  preach 
ing  the  Gospel,  owing  to  the  various  imbecilities  of 
men,  not  only  in  Bubbleton,  but  also  in  Calcutta  ! " 


Y. 

MAKING  PASTORAL   CALLS. 

ANXIOUS  to  form  an  acquaintance  with  the  parish, 
individually,  and  to  learn  as  much  as  possible  about 
their  peculiarities,  so  that  I  might  adjust  my  ministry 
to  their  circumstances  wisely,  I  began  the  routine 
of  "making  calls"  that  very  week.  Furnished  by 
Mr.  Arlington  with  the  names  of  ' '  the  leading  fami 
lies,"  and  with  the  numbers  of  their  residences,  I 
accomplished  a  good  deal  of  this  kind  of  work  in  the 
course  of  three  or  four  afternoons. 

I  know  ministers  who  consider  this  the  most  un 
pleasant  duty  they  have  to  fulfil.  To  go  about  from 
house  to  house,  with  the  persistence  of  a  tax-gatherer, 
ringing  door-bells,  bowing,  smiling,  shaking  hands 
with  ladies,  patting  the  heads  of  children  (perhaps 
kissing  them,  if  their  faces  happen  to  be  clean),  ask 
ing  pastoral  questions,  answering  compliments,  talk 
ing  about  the  weather,  the  parish,  the  late  minister, 
hearing  Mrs.  A.'s  complaints  about  her  rheumatism, 
Mrs.  B.'s  narrative  of  the  "rappings,"  Mrs.  C.'s 
murmurs  at  the  want  of  good  society,  Mrs.  D.'s 


44  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

praises  of  her  son  who  is  in  college, —  in  short, 
plunging,  again  and  again,  into  a  chaos  of  small  talk, 
and  a  labyrinth  of  confused  interests, —  these  things 
seem,  to  some  men,  the  hardest  of  all  mortal  afflic 
tions. 

But,  for  my  own  part.  I  rather  enjoy  the  mild 
excitement  and  diversified  sensations  produced  by 
these  friendly  visits. 

What  is  more  agreeable  than  to  take  the  hands  of 
those  who  have  agreed  to  be  your  friends  —  to  give 
a  candid  hearing  to  your  counsel,  to  repose  in  you 
the  tenderest  confidence  1  What  is  more  pleasant 
than  to  be  familiar  with  the  HOMES  of  those  to  whom 
you  are  connected  by  the  holiest  and  friendliest  of 
ties, —  to  see  countenances  light  up  when  you  appear, 
and  regrets  betrayed  when  you  depart, —  to  have  per 
plexing  cares  committed  to  your  wisdom,  and  heart 
breaking  troubles  reposed  on  your  faithful  affection '? 
What  can  be  more  interesting  than  to  observe  the 
innumerable  phases  in  which  our  common  humanity 
exhibits  itself,  in  the  different  families  with  which  you 
become  acquainted,  and  under  the  pressure  of  various 
and  ever-changing  circumstances  ? 

Many  a  sermon,  which  no  book  could  suggest,  have 
I  obtained  from  these  very  "calls,"  which  so  many 
stigmatize  as  "frivolous." 

Some  poet  speaks  of  finding  sermons  in  stones,  and 
I  have  often  queried  whether  the  allusion  might  not 
be  to  the  lap-stones  of  certain  shoemakers  whom  I 
visit.  However  that  may  be,  I  can  bear  witness  that 


MAKING  PASTORAL   CALLS.  45 

excellent  sermons  are  to  be  had  of  wash-tubs,  if  one 
but  has  the  tact  to  interpret  their  spiritual  signifi 
cance. 

But  this  is  getting  beyond  the  strict  limits  of  Bub- 
bleton  Parish.  Let  me  return. 

In  the  progress  of  my  acquaintance  with  the  Bub- 
bleton  people,  I  found  that  Brother  Stringent  had  left 
more  friends  in  the  parish  than  Mr.  Arlington  had 
given  me  reason  to  suppose.  I  did  not  find  that 
unanimity  of  sentiment  which  I  had  been  led  to  ex 
pect.  Indeed,  as  well  as  I  could  ascertain,  there  was 
quite  a  serious  division  in  the  society,  growing  out  of 
the  dismissal  of  the  late  pastor.  Some  had  even 
refused  to  hear  the  new  clergyman  preach,  and  talked 
of  taking  seats  in  other  churches.  These  did  not 
give  me  an  over-cordial  greeting. 

"It  is  of  no  use,"  they  said;  "the  parish  will 
never  prosper,  or  have  peace,  while  under  its  present 
ill-considered  management." 

"  You  must  form  no  expectations  from  the  congre 
gations  you  had  last  Sunday,"  one  lady  remarked  ; 
"for  not  half  the  people  you  saw  belong  to  the 
parish.  Most  of  them  are  mere  novelty-seekers; 
they  fly  from  one  church  to  another,  as  excitement 
moves  them;  they  are  as  unreliable  as  the  wind. 
Next  Sunday,  like  as  not,  they  will  be  in  pursuit  of 
some  new  attraction.  Bubbleton  is  full  of  just  such 
frivolous  folks." 

"  You  'd  better  have  staid  in  New  Hampshire," 
said  a  frank,  harsh-looking  old  gentleman,  "  than 


46  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

come  to  preach  for  such  a  possessed  set  of  beings  as 
these  Bubbleton  gentry.  They  will  harrow  the  life 
out  of  you,  even  if  you  are  nine  times  endowed  —  as 
my  grimalkin,  there,  is  said  to  be.  They  will  make 
you  a  candidate  for  the  mad-house,  in  three  months." 
'  Such  unwelcome  statements  and  dismal  prophecies, 
however,  I  was  not  doomed  to  hear  everywhere.  In 
deed,  promises  and  plaudits  enough  were  sounded  in 
my  ears  to  counteract  much  of  their  doleful  effect. 

One  acquaintance  which  I  formed,  during  this  first 
week,  is  deserving  of  a  particular  notice,  on  account 
of  the  sad,  but  profitable,  intimacy  to  which  it  led, 
and  the  noble  lesson  it  furnished  me. 

The  case  to  which  I  allude,  was  that  of  a  young 
man,  hopelessly  disabled  by  a  spinal  disease.  He 
was  just  married  to  an  interesting  young  woman, 
when  this  great  affliction  seized  him.  Neither  had 
any  pecuniary  resources  but  the  avails  of  their  daily 
labor ;  and,  after  the  husband  became  confined  to  his 
bed,  the  burden  devolved  upon  the  wife.  A  few 
benevolent  people  in  the  parish  came  to  her  assistance, 
with  timely  gifts  and  cordial  sympathy ;  but  her  lot, 
with  all  these  alleviations,  was  still  sad  enough,  as 
the  least  sensible  reader  will  acknowledge. 

On  my  first  visit  to  the  Herricks,  I  saw  only  the 
husband,  the  wife  having  gone  out  in  pursuit  of 
work.  I  was  struck  by  the  evidence  of  acute  suffer 
ing,  and  hopeless  prostration,  which  the  young  man's 
appearance  presented.  His  hair  had  become  gray ; 
deep  lines  seamed  his  colorless  forehead ;  his  cheeks 


MAKING   PASTORAL   CALLS.  47 

were  wasted  almost  to  the  bone ;  and  his  eyes  had 
that  intense,  pleading  expression,  which  is  imparted 
only  by  protracted  pain.  His  disease,  moreover,  in 
volved  a  muscular  contraction  of  the  limbs,  which, 
at  times,  was  so  great  as  to  produce  an  agony  almost 
beyond  human  endurance,  and  which  rendered  him  an 
object  of  most  painful  commiseration. 

Still,  there  was  a  look  of  cheerfulness  in  the  sick 
man's  face,  and  an  utterance  of  submissive  trust  in  his 
voice,  that  seemed  to  divert  one's  attention  from  his 
bodily  affliction.  The  power  of  Christian  faith  trans 
figured  his  distorted  and  emaciated  frame.  He  evi 
dently  possessed  that  strength  of  which  the  strong 
man  cannot  boast,  and  that  peace-  which  the  for 
tunate  never  know. 

When,  in  the  course  of  our  conversation,  I  con 
gratulated  him  on  the  serene  fortitude  with  which  he 
bore  his  sufferings,  a  change  passed  over  his  features, 
like  the  shadow  of  some  momentous  memory.  He 
appeared  to  struggle  with  himself,  for  an  instant ; 
after  which  his  spirit  rallied,  and  he  replied,  cheer- 
fully: 

•  ' '  Ah,  Brother  Chester,  it  has  taken  me  a  long  time 
to  secure  this  state  of  mind. 

' '  In  the  beginning  of  my  affliction,  for  months,  I 
was  very  wretched.  I  could  not  submit  to  the  loss  of 
my  manly  activity  and  independence,  and  the  hopes 
I  had  cherished  so  fondly  on  my  wedding  day,  without 
first  murmuring  a  great  deal. 

"  I  could  find  no  goodness  in  the  dark  providence 


48  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

that  suddenly  deprived  nie  of  all  that  one  is  apt  to 
prize  most  in  this  world,  and  that  doomed  me  to  a 
life  of  dependence,  suffering,  and  obscurity.  .0,  those 
were  miserable  days,  indeed !  My  ignorance  and 
superficial  experience  did  not  enable  me  to  perceive 
the  lofty  uses  which  such  trials  may  have,  under  in 
scrutable  but  beneficent  wisdom. 

"  Brother  Stringent  came  and  talked  with  me.  He 
imparted  to  me  new  views,  and  placed  my  mind  in  an 
attitude  of  submission.  I  shall  never  forget  the  per 
suasiveness  of  his  words, —  the  calm,  Christian  ear 
nestness  of  his  counsel, —  the  uplifting  fervor  of  his 
prayers.  God  bless  him  !  I  hear  that  the  parish  did 
not  treat  him  well ;  but  he  is  a  man  whom  the  injus 
tice  of  the  world  can  never  really  harm. 

' '  From  that  time,  I  have  been  troubled  by  no  doubts. 
I  have  ceased  to  complain.  If  I  do  not  see  the  exact 
necessity  of  the  affliction,  I  believe,  nevertheless,  that 
it  will  be  revealed  finally.  As  one  looking  through 
a  glass  darkly,  I  partially  discern  God's  purpose  in 
these  trials,  even  now;  ultimately,  I  do  not  doubt, 
the  whole  mystery  will  become  transparent,  and  I 
shall  knoAV,  even  as  I  am  known. 

"  When  I  was  a  careless,  active  boy,  I  remember 
to  have  seen,  occasionally,  a  very  decrepit  and  help 
less  old  woman.  She  lived  near  by  my  mother's  cot 
tage,  and,  besides  being  unable  to  work,  was  very 
poor.  I  used  to  be  sent,  now  and  then,  to  carry  her 
some  luxury  ;  and  I  remember  thinking  to  myself 
how  extremelv  wretched  and  forlorn  she  must  be. 


MAKING    PASTORAL   CALLS.  49 

And  yet  she  always  seemed  happy,  and  her  singular 
resignation  and  contentment  were  frequently  spoken 
of  by  the  neighbors. 

"  It  was  all  a  mystery  to  me,  then;  but  I  have 
since  learned  tnat  our  heavenly  Father  never  leaves 
human  beings  without  resources  according  to  the 
demands  of  their  circumstances.  Some  refuge  is 
always  available,  if  we  but  have  the  humility  and 
patience  to  seek  it." 

Thus,  with  unaffected  piety  and  trust,  the  sick  man 
conversed. 

Sometimes,  as  I  found,  he  was  able  to  read,  and 
occasionally  his  wife  took  time  to  read  aloud  to  him. 
He  had  thus  been  enabled  to  amass  a  treasury  of 
knowledge,  which  helped  to  employ  his  mind,  and  to 
divert  his  thoughts  from  desponding  objects. 

His  mind  was  a  kingdom,  and  the  sovereignty  he 
exercised  was  blessed. 

Every  minister  will  bear  evidence  to  the  salutary 
influence  of  such  scenes  in  promoting  his  own  trust 
fulness,  fortitude,  and  piety. 

Often,  during  my  residence  in  Bubbleton,  when 
worn  down  by  exhausting  cares,  irritated  by  petty 
persecutions,  and  tormented  by  cruel  anxieties,  and 
almost  ready  to  fly  from  the  field,  have  I  entered 
the  sick  room  of  Brother  Herrick,  and  found  that 
strength  and  courage  which  were  elsewhere  denied. 
5 


•VI. 

CONCERNING   A   YOUNG  LADY. 

OWING  to  some  difficulty  in  finding  a  suitable 
boarding-house,  my  stay  at  Mr.  Arlington's  was  pro 
tracted  a  number  of  weeks.  I  thus  had  an  oppor 
tunity  of  becoming  quite  intimately  acquainted  with 
that  gentleman  and  with  his  family.  I  ought  to  qual 
ify  the  observation  far  enough,  however,  to  admit 
that  I  really  obtained  no  better  insight  of  his  char 
acter,  during  a  constant  observation  of  it  for  the  term 
of  five  weeks,  than  I  had  obtained  the  first  evening  I 
spent  at  his  house.  He  was  always  pleasant  in  his 
demeanor,  sociable,  dignified,  and  polite.  Nothing 
ruffled  or  jarred  his  equanimity. 

Mrs.  Arlington  was  not,  in  any  respect,  a  remark 
able  woman.  She  was  a  plain,  good-natured,  well- 
bred  housekeeper,  loving  her  family,  and  living  con 
tentedly  and  quietly  in  her  sphere.  She  would  never 
have  become  a  Woman's  Rights  agitator,  on  any  terms. 
Her  sons  resembled  her,  in  temperament  and  charac 
ter. 

Neither  of  the  threa  will  occupy  a  conspicuous 
position  in  these  records. 

As  for  Miss  Arlington, —  the  young  lady  who  re- 


CONCERNING   A   YOUNG   LADY.  51 

galed  my  troubled  fancy  with  music,  the  first  evening 
I  passed  at  Bubbleton, —  she  became  to  me  the  most 
interesting  object  of  study  the  house  afforded.  This 
may  be  thought  too  self-evident  a  fact  for  notice,  con 
sidering  that  I  was  not  a  married  man, — more  espe 
cially  when  I  proceed  to  state  that  she  was  young, 
ordinarily  good-looking,  and  rather  brilliantly  accom 
plished.  But  I  must  not  suffer  my  readers  to  cherish 
any  unnecessary  delusion,  however  natural  and  inno 
cent,  in  reference  to  the  secret  of  my  interest  in  Miss 
Arlington.  I  will  state  the  precise  truth. 

That  young  lady  appeared  to  be  one  of  those  intel 
lectual  females  who  are  given  to  reserve,  to  reveries, 
to  vague  and  insatiable  aspirations, —  whom  their  own 
sex  denominate  "  haughty,"  and  whom  we  men  con 
sider  "  eccentric."  A  man  seldom  falls  in  love  with 
such  a  phenomenon,  though  he  may  find  much  enter 
tainment  in  her  society.  She  interests  his  reason  and 
imagination,  but  rarely  awakens  his  affections. 

This  is  all  that  need  be  said,  at  the  present  stage  of 
the  narrative,  as  regards  this  question. 

I  had  been  in  the  family  circle  some  two  weeks 
before  Miss  Arlington  seemed  to  be  actually  conscious 
of  my  existence.  I  had  never  before  been  the  victim 
of  such  apparent  obliviousness  ;  and  I  felt,  at  times, 
singularly  diminished,  in  spite  of  all  the  self-esteem 
I  could. invoke. 

She  had  played  and  sung  on  two  occasions,  at  my 
solicitation  ;  but  without  the  slightest  demonstration 
of  interest  in  my  opinion,  but,  rather,  as  though  she 


52  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

were  performing  for  her  own  amusement,  ih  the  depths 
of  utter  solitude. 

One  morning,  on  descending  to  the  parlor,  I  found 
her  gazing  abstractedly  from  a  window.  Her  usual 
unconsciousness  possessed  her  ;  and  it  was  not  until  I 
had  overthrown  a  chair  that  .1  received  the  compli 
ment  of  "  good-morning."  Determined  to  make  one 
decisive  effort  to  engage  her  in  conversation,  I  intro 
duced  some  seasonable  topic ;  but  all  the  response  I 
obtained  was  two  monosyllables,  and  a  look  that  quite 
froze  the  organ  of  language. 

Even  in  church,  my  success  was  scarcely  better ; 
for  her  ladyship  never  looked  toward  the  pulpit, 
whether  she  heard  a  word  of  the  sermon  or  not. 

At  length,  however,  a  change  began  to  be  visible. 
She  condescended  to  observe  me,  even  to  study  my 
face,  somewhat  narrowly.  Sometimes,  she  appeared 
to  listen  to  my  observations. 

It  happened,  one  day,  that  she  came  into  the  room 
where  I  sat  alone,  reading,  and  took  a  seat  near  me, 
with  some  ornamental  work  in  her  hand. 

Knowing  her  predisposition  for  reveries,  I  did  not 
offer  to  lay  aside  my  book  until  she  had  startled  me 
with  the  abrupt  observation  — 

"I  wish  you  had  never  come  to  Bubbleton,  Mr. 
Chester  !  " 

"  You  are  very  frank,  Miss  Arlington,"  said  I ; 
"  thank  you  !  " 

I  think  I  must  have  been  a  little  provoked. 

"  Please  to  understand  me  ;  I  mean  no  discourtesy ; 


CONCERNING   A   YOUNG   LADY.  53 

it  would  have  been  better  for  us  all.  Bubbleton  is  no 
place  for  an  independent  minister." 

"  Then  you  deem  me  such  an  one,  I  suppose,"  I 
said,  relenting. 

"  You  certainly  ought  to  be,"  said  she,  looking 
me  keenly  in  the  face ;  ' '  and  I  think  you  are  —  by 
nature." 

"  And  you  think  the  parish  will  not  brook  inde 
pendence?  " 

' '  Look  at  Mr.  Stringent.  Will  it  be  any  different 
with  you  ?  ' ' 

' '  The  prospect  is  not  flattering,  I  must  confess.  Still, 
your  father  assures  me  that  it  is  not  a  difficult  parish." 

"  My  father  has  views  respecting  the  management 
of  the  parish  which  no  clergyman  will  ever  verify. 
He  holds  principles  which  you  will  never  carry  out ; 
and  the  result  will  be  disagreement,  conflict,  and  a 
rupture." 

"  That  is  an  issue  which  I  hope  to  avoid ;  is  it  in 
evitable?" 

"  You  can  avoid  it  only  by  base  concessions,  which 
I  cannot  think  you  capable  of  making,  without  insult 
ing  you." 

I  was  silent,  regarding  her  with  astonishment. 
She  continued : 

"  What  pleasure  can  one  take  in  seeing  you  here 
as  my  father's  guest,  when  it  is  morally  certain  that 
you  will  be  enemies  in  six  months  ?  What  satisfaction 
can  be  found  in  a  friendship  so  precarious  ?  What 
are  all  these  amenities  but  deceptive  and  cruel  mock- 
5* 


54  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

cries?  I  cannot  bear  that  you  should  longer  be 
kept  in  ignorance  of  your  fate." 

The  girl  certainly  spoke  with  earnestness  and  with 
feeling. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  warning,  Miss  Arlington," 
said  I,  after  considering  her  words ;  "I  will  endeavor 
to  profit  by  it." 

"  I  wish  you  might.  Pardon  me  for  having  pained 
you ;  but  I  have  notified  you  of  nothing  but  what  you 
will  verify.  0,  Mr.  Chester,  why  does  any  man  ever 
resolve  on  being  a  minister?  " 

"  Because  duty  impels  him,  and  God  requires  his 
work." 

"  Duty !  —  God !  "  she  murmured ;  "  can  belief  in 
these,  indeed,  be  so  strong?" 

And,  rising,  she  passed  slowly  from  the  room,  leav 
ing  me  to  ruminate  on  her  singular  words  and  de 
meanor. 


VII. 

COLLISION   WITH  MR.    PEPPERY. 

THOSE  who  have  favored  me  with  a  perusal  of  these 
truthful  records,  thus  far,  will  have  perceived  that  I 
did  not  begin  my  course  at  Bubbleton  under  the  hap 
piest  auspices.  Indeed,  the  statements  I  received  on 
almost  all  hands  depressed  my  spirits  not  a  little,  in 
spite  of  Mr.  Arlington's  dignified  and  serene  confi 
dence,  and  the  hopeful  hosannas  of  some  half-dozen 
brethren  besides. 

Still,  I  resolved  to  do  the  best  my  situation  admit 
ted  of.  The  enthusiasm  of  a  large  part  of  the  parish, 
—  however  superficial  and  transient  I  may  have  felt 
it  to  be, —  and  the  numerous  auditory  that  filled  the 
church  every  Sabbath,  appealed  powerfully  to  my 
ambition,  and  stimulated  my  mind  to  extreme  exer 
tion. 

At  home,  I  studied  laboriously,  and  made  the  best 
preparation  for  the  pulpit  that  lay  in  my  power. 
Abroad,  I  exerted  myself  to  harmonize  the  discordant 
elements  which  had  distracted  the  society,  and  to  give 
unity  and  sobriety  to  its  purposes  and  wishes. 
I  Nor  must  the  reader  suppose  that  I  was  entirely 
unsuccessful. 


56  BUBBLETON    PAKISH 

I  actually  found  those  who  were  susceptible  to 
reasonable  arguments  and  Christian  persuasions ; 
those  in  whom  a  "  sense  of  duty"  was  perceivable,  in 
spite  of  sophistry,  and  prejudice,  and  pride ;  those 
whose  moral  natures  were  sound  enough  to  admit  of 
driving  a  pungent  exhortation,  and  Of  clinching  a 
thorough  conviction. 

As  my  friend,  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt,  had  said,  there 
were  some  "just-minded  men "  and  "sensible  women" 
in  Bubble  ton. 

In  extending  my  intercourse  with  the  parish,  I 
found  many  who  might  have  reflected  honor  upon  any 
congregation, —  humble,  modest,  Christian  men  and 
women,  cherishing  holy  purposes  in  the  retirement  of 
their  homes,  and  fulfilling  the  law  of  love  in  the  tem 
per  of  their  lives. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  month,  I  suffered  the  installa 
tion  to  take  place. 

Agreeably  to  Mr.  Arlington's  wishes,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Resounder  preached  the  sermon.  It  was  the  first 
effort  of  this  celebrated  preacher  which  I  was  per 
mitted  to  hear.  Eloquent,  it  certainly  was,  and  im 
pressive,  in  a  certain  sense ;  but  it  was  a  discourse 
much  better  adapted  to  the  lyceuni  than  to  the 
church, —  better  calculated  to  charm  the  ear  and 
exercise  the  fancy,  than  to  penetrate  the  heart  or 
stimulate  the  conscience. 

I  have  lived  to  discover  an  essential  difference  be 
tween  a  true,  Christian  sermon,  and  a  gracefully- writ 
ten  and  captivating  essay.  The  one  deals  with  the 


COLLISION   WITH   MB.    PEPPERY.  57 

most  solemn  and  imperative  of  all  subjects,  the 
most  permanent  and  precious  of  all  interests ;  and  its 
aim  is  to  convict,  alarm,  humble,  encourage,  and  ren 
ovate  man's  perverted  heart.  The  other  deals  with 
subjects  of  secondary  importance, —  even  of  trivial 
and  transient  interest,  perhaps, —  and  may,  with  pro 
priety,  assume  a  holiday  costume,  and  march  with  the 
pomp  and  splendor  of  brilliant  rhetoric. 

But  the  Rev.  Mr.  Resounder's  sermon  captivated 
Bubbleton. 

The  Morning  News  devoted  more  than  a  column 
to  the  setting  forth  of  its  surpassing  merits.  The 
editor  was  a  politician,  in  the  obvious,  modern  sense 
of  the  term ;  and  no  doubt  the  holy  experiences  and 
avocations  of  the  man  constituted  him  an  excellent 
judge  of  such  matters. 

In  due  time,  board  and  rooms  were  secured  for  me 
in  a  family  connected  with  the  parish,  and  nothing 
was  wanting  to  realize  my  actual  settlement  in  Bub 
bleton.  Nor  let  me  omit,  in  this  place,  the  acknowl 
edgment  of  certain  presents,  appropriate  to  the  forlorn 
situation  of  a  bachelor  minister,  for  which  I  was  in 
debted  to  the  kind  foresight  and  effective  zeal  of  the 
cultivated  Miss  Lark. 

And  I  take  pleasure  in  adding,  that  this  young 
lady's  judgment  appeared  far  more  discriminating, 
when  exercised  in  the  domestic  sphere,  than  when 
brought  to  bear  on  the  subtleties  of  literary  compari 
sons. 

Almost  the  first  visitor  I  had  the  honor  of  receiving 


58  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

at  my  new  home  was  Mr.  Peppery,  the  nervous 
radical,  of  whom  mention  has  been  made. 

Mr.  Peppery  was  a  man  of  quick  movement,  rapid 
speech,  and  remorseless  frankness,  fie  did  not  ham 
per  himself  with  any  conventional  ceremonies,  nor 
approach  his  subject  by  any  indirect  by-ways  of  cir 
cumlocution,  but  came  down  upon  you  by  the  shortest 
cut,  and  with  overwhelming  abruptness  and  audacity. 
His  countenance  wore  the  same  scowl  I  had  observed 
upon  it  the  day  he  bolted  out  of  church,  and  he  took 
my  hand  with  about  as  much  cordiality  as  one  might 
be  expected  to  exhibit  towards  a  red-hot  poker. 

"  I  have  called  to  ask  you  to  preach  a  sermon  on 
the  atrocious  and  abominable  sin  of  American  slavery," 
said  he ;  "  will  you  do  it  1 " 

I  told  him  that  I  expected  to  call  attention  to  that 
subject,  in  the  course  of  my  ministry  in  Bubbleton ; 
but  that  I  desired  first  to  secure  the  friendship  and 
confidence  of  the  people,  in  order  that  my  appeals  in 
behalf  of  the  slave  might  be  as  effective  as  possible. 

"  That  won't  do  —  it  won't  do  at  all !  "  cried  Mr. 
Peppery,  rising  from  his  chair,  and  stepping  rapidly 
about  the  room:  "such  a  course  is  unbecoming  the 
independence  and  dignity  of  a  Christian  pulpit  —  un 
becoming  the  faithfulness  that  should  characterize  a 
minister  of  Christ.  Away,  sir,  with  timeserving  — 
away  with  compromises  !  It 's  your  business  to  preach 
the  truth,  sir, —  the  naked  truth, —  whether  men  will 
hear  or  whether  they  will  not.  '  He  that  hath  my 
word  let  hi  in  speak  my  word  faithfully :  What  is  the 


INTERVIEW  WITH  BROTHER  PEPPERY. 


COLLISION    WITH    MR.    PEPPERY".  59 

chaff  to  the  wheat,  saith  the  Lord.'  What  does  it 
signify  whether  you  have  the  friendship  and  confi 
dence  of  the  people  or  not,  if  you  only  declare  God's 
will,  and  uphold  his  cause  against  the  mighty?  " 

"  Brother  Peppery,"  said  I,  as  soon  as  I  was  able 
to  speak,  "  I  want  you  to  understand  me.  I  profess 
as  much  abhorrence  of  slavery  as  you,  or  any  other 
man.  can  feel.  I  profess  as  great  a  desire  to  see  it 
abolished,  and  have  as  much  confidence  in  my 
method — " 

i 

"The  same  old  story!"  broke  in  Mr.  Peppery; 
"profession!  profession!  Don't  every  conservative 
fossil  here  at  the  North  claim  the  same  thing  ?  0, 
yes  !  we  all  have  the  holiest  abhorrence  of  slavery, 
but  that  does  n't  prevent  our  helping  to  extend  its 
dominion;  we  all  sympathize  with  the  slave,  and, 
perhaps,  even  dare  to  pray  for  him, —  but  neither  our 
sympathies  nor  prayers  knock  a  single  fetter  from  his 
limbs,  or  avert  from  his  lot  a  single  pang  of  wrong. 
Out  upon  such  professions  !  —  away  with  such  misera 
ble  cant! — don't  mock  Heaven  and  humanity  with 
such  detestable  hypocrisy  !  Confess,  at  once,  that 
you  love  oppression  more  than  justice  !  " — 

"  Brother  Peppery,"  cried  I,  interrupting  his 
invective,  "  let  us  reason  together,  calmly,  and  not 
run  into  excitements  that  provoke  uncharitable  reflec 
tions." 

"Am  I  uncharitable?"  demanded  Mr.  Peppery. 
' '  Well,  I  am  not  indifferent,  thank  God  !  to  the  fate 
of  three  millions  of  fellow-beings.  No ;  I  will  lift 


60  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

up  my  voice  like  a  trumpet,  and  show  this  apostate 
nation  its  transgression,  and  the  timid  churches  their 
sins  !  I  will  cry  aloud,  and  spare  not." 

"Will  you  hear  me,  my  friend?"  said  I,  holding 
fast  to  my  patience. 

"Hear  you?  Of  course  I  will.  Go  ahead.  Jus 
tify  yourself,  if  you  can  !  "  cried  the  reformer,  regard 
ing  me  with  a  look  of  contempt  and  defiance. 

"  You  are  willing  to  allow,  I  hope,  that  men  may 
honestly  differ  as  .to  the  BEST  METHODS  of  effecting 
the  overthrow  of  slavery,  or  the  wisest  means  of  pro 
mulgating  the  reform.  It  is  not  to  be  expected  that 
we  should  all  adopt  the  same  views.  You  have  your 
opinion  —  your  method ;  so  I  have  mine.  Let  us  not 
wrangle  about  these  things.  I  have  traced  out  a  cer 
tain  line  of  procedure,  which  I  shall  pursue  until  I 
am  shown  a  better.  You  talk  of  the  independence 
and  dignity  of  the  pulpit ;  but  could  I  exemplify  these 
by  renouncing  my  method  and  adopting  yours  ?  You 
speak  of  the  faithfulness  that  should  characterize  the 
minister ;  but  how  is  this  faithfulness  to  be  exhibited, 
but  by  acting  according  to  the  dictates  of  his  own 
conscience?" 

"  That's  all  plausible  enough,  in  appearance,  I  '11 
allow,"  responded  Mr.  Peppery  ;  "  but  it's  an  argu 
ment  that  shelters  every  kind  of  cowardice  and  selfish 
ness.  I  find  that  most  men's  consciences  are  apt  to 
dictate  a  course  which  it  is  extremely  pleasant  to 
follow  out ;  and  MINISTERS'  consciences  most  readily 
adopt  the  views  of  those  rich  and  influential  parish- 


COLLISION    WITH   MR.    PEPPERY.  61 

loners,  of  whom  jour  friend,  Mr.  Arlington,  is  a  most 
distinguished  type." 

This  outrageous  remark  stretched  my  endurance  till 
it  snapped. 

Something  burnt  my  face  like  the  glare  of  a  fur 
nace.  The  room  seemed,  all  at  once,  oppressively 
warm.  Amazement  and  anger  paralyzed  my  tongue. 

But  the  impudence  of  the  man  had  not  entirely 
spent  itself. 

"  Show  me  a  conscience,"  he  continued,  "  that  will 
marshal  a  man  in  the  ranks  of  a  minority,  and  link 
him,  body  and  soul,  with  an  unpopular  and  persecuted 
party,  and  I  '11  believe  in  it.  Yes,  show  me  a  con 
science  like  the  brave  Garrison's,  or  faithful  Brother 
Stringent' s,  or  that  of  any  man  who  suffers  and  dies 
for  the  truth's  sake,  and  I  '11  not  be  afraid  to  trust 
it ;  but  away  with  hireling  consciences,  and  pampered 
sycophants,  and  all  the  rubbish  of  poltroonery  and 
deceit !" 

"Mr.  Peppery,"  exclaimed  I,  in  a  voice  that  be 
trayed  the  emotion  I  felt,  ' '  since  you  have  entirely 
forgotten  all  the  dictates  of  Christian  courtesy,  and 
render  abuse  with  much  more  facility  than  you  render 
reason,  I  shall  have  no  more  discourse  with  you  on 
this  subject.  And  I  regret,  very  much,  that  the  anti- 
slavery  cause  ever  incurred  the  reproach  of  such  a 
misguided  and  intolerant  advocate." 

"  Your  regrets  !  "  sneered  the  hot-headed  reformer, 
buzzing  about  the  room  like  an  imprisoned  bee,  and 
6 


62  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

gesticulating  like  a  mad  little  fury,  as  he  was, —  "and 
Mr.  Arlington's  regrets, —  ha,  ha!  " 

" I  beg  you  will  understand,"  said  I,  "that  I  wish 
this  interview  closed.  You  must  perceive  that  it  can 
not  be  profitably  prolonged,  under  present  circum 
stances." 

"In  other  words,  you  wish  to  turn  me  out  of 
doors  !  "  screamed  the  little  reformer.  "  Well,  that  is 
courtesy' — conservative  courtesy,  an't  it?" 

But  I  was^not  obliged  to  answer,  for  Mr.  Peppery 
darted  through  the  door-way,  as  he  flung  off  the  last 
word,  and  disappeared  in  a  frightful  spasm  of  anger. 

I  walked  the  apartment,  for  an  hour,  trying  to  com 
pose  myself,  and  to  exorcise  the  fiery  image  of  the 
little  reformer  from  my  imagination. 

If  Mr.  Arlington  represented  Scylla,  Mr.  Peppery 
not  inaptly  imaged  Charybdis ;  and  how  to  pilot  my 
course  safely  between  the  rock  of  offence  and  the  furi 
ous  whirlpool,  was  the  problem  which  it  became  me  to 
study,  with  all  seriousness  and  devotion. 


VIII. 

A   NIGHT-SCENE. 

IF  a  knowledge  of  the  strong  conservative  element 
that  predominated  in  the  parish  tended  to  render  my 
preaching  too  abstract,  there  were  also  influences  that 
inclined  me  to  "  make  a  practical  application"  of  my 
principles  to  the  exigences  of  the  time,  and  the  condi 
tion  of  the  people,  as  will  appear  in  what  I  am  now 
going  to  relate. 

Not  long  after  my  stormy  interview  with  the  little 
reformer,  Mr.  Peppery,  it  happened  that  I  was  mak 
ing  my  way  homeward  from  the  sewing-circle,  at 
about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  that,  in  passing 
through  a  dark  and  narrow  street,  in  the  outskirts  of 
the  town,  I  was  startled  by  two  or  three  loud  cries, 
accompanied  by  other  sounds  of  violence.  I  stopped, 
and  listened  with  apprehension. 

In  less  than  a  minute,  a  door  was  flung  open,  just 
opposite  the  spot  where  I  was  standing,  and  a  woman, 
with  her  dress  disordered  and  hair  dishevelled,  rushed, 
screaming,  into  the  street. 

An  instant  later,  she  was  followed  by  a  little  girl, 
who,  almost  reduced  to  nakedness,  seemed  wild  with 
terror  and  pain. 


64  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

Then  appeared,  in  the  partially  illuminated  door 
way,  a  figure  more  wretched  still.  It  was  that  of  a 
half-clad,  ragged,  unshaven  man,  with  distorted  coun 
tenance,  reeling  form,  and  wild,  vehement  gestures, 
not  to  mention  the  demoniacal  voice  and  frenzied 
speech,  with  which  the  miserable  inebriate  proclaimed 
his  degradation  and  his  guilt. 

"0,  save  us!  for  God's  sake,  somebody  save  my 
child !  "  shrieked  the  woman,  flinging  up  her  arms 
in  supplication. 

Then,  perceiving  that  the  girl  had  made  her  escape, 
she  sunk  upon  the  ground,  sobbing  and  wringing  her 
hands,  bitterly. 

As  for  the  drunkard,  he  did  not  pursue  them ;  but, 
after  swinging  his  arms'  to  and  fro,  for  an  instant,  and 
gibbering  like  a  fiend,  he  withdrew  into  the  house. 

During  this  scene,  which  had  occupied  scarcely  a 
minute,  I  had  remained  invisible ;  and  I  had  scarcely 
recovered  from  the  alarm  into  which  it  had  thrown 
me,  before  a  crowd  began  to  gather  on  the  spot, 
attracted,  naturally  enough,  by  the  poor  woman's 
screams. 

"  Another  of  old  Gorman's  tantrums ! "  I  heard  one 
of  the  men  say ;  "if  the  old  rascal  would  only  break 
his  neck  in  one  of  his  sprees,  what  a  blessing  it  would 
be, —  to  his  family  especially  !  " 

"Hush!"  said  another,  softly,  "here  they  are, 
poor  things,  turned  into  the  street,  and  mauled  half 
to  death,  I  dare  say  !  " 

"  0,  Lord,  what  shall  we  do?  what  will  become  of 


A   NIGHT-SCENE.  65 

• 

us  ?  "  moaned  the  woman.  Her  little  girl  was  sob 
bing  by  her  side. 

At  the  same  moment,  there  was  a  hearty  cheer  from 
the  crowd. 

A  tall,  powerful-looking  man  strode  forward,  and, 
approaching  the  outcasts,  lifted  them  from  the  ground, 
and  said,  kindly. 

"  Come  with  me,  my  poor  friends ;  I  will  give  you 
shelter,  to-night,  and  then  we  will  see  what  can  be 
done  for  the  future." 

"0,  sir,  you  are  very,  very  kind,"  cried  the  wo 
man;  "but  it  an't  right  for  us  to  trouble  you  so 
much.  A  great  many  times  already — " 

"Never  mind,"  answered  the  man.  leading  off  his 
charge  as  he  spoke ;  ' '  Lord  !  we  must  all  do  what  we 
can  for  each  other.  I  guess  you  could  n't  stay  here 
in  the  street  all  night ;  and  as  for  Bill  Gorman,  I 
reckon  he  '11  have  as  much  as  he  can  do  to  take  care 
of  number  one." 

The  crowd  gave  him  another  loud  cheer  as  he  dis 
appeared. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  Harry  Hanson,"  remarked  one 
of  the  men,  addressing  himself  to  me,  "the  Lord  only 
knows  what  would  become  of  the  Germans.  When 
the  old  Turk  gets  high,  and  drives  his  wife  and  child 
out  of  doors.  Harry  is  pretty  sure  to  take  them  in,  till 
the  old  dog  gets  sober  again.  When  the  expense  of 
quenching  his  thirst  has  been  so  great  as  to  leave 
nothing  wherewith  to  buy  bread,  and  clothing,  and 
fuel,  who  comes  to  the  rescue  so  promptly  as  that 
6* 


66  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

large-limbed  and  large-hearted  blacksmith  ?  0,  he  is 
a  jewel  of  a  man,  sir, —  the  only  man  I  ever  knew  fit 
to  be  a  king." 

"  Ah,  ah  !  a  long  life  to  Harry  Hanson  ! "  respond 
ed  an  old  man,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  other's 
words ;  ' '  but  I  remember  when  Billy  Gorman  was 
thought  to  rank  with  the  best  of  men.  I  have  known 
him  from  his  youth.  We  were  in  college  at  the  same 
time.  Billy  was  an  ambitious  student,  and  a  keen 
scholar.  'T  was  thought  he  'd  become  famous.  But, 
somehow,  drink  got  the  better  of  him,  and  he  went 
down,  down,  down.  Poor  Billy !  it  was  drink  that 
did  it  all." 

The  old  man  switched  his  coat-sleeve  across  his 
eyes,  and  then  resumed : 

"I  remember  Billy  Gorman's  wedding,  as  though 
it  had  been  only  yesterday.  The  bride  came  from 
Providence,  where  people  thought  her  quite  a  belle. 
She  was  real  handsome,  I  can  assure  you ;  and  her 
heart  seemed  so  gay,  and  her  laugh  rung  so  joyously, 
that  one  would  have  said  she  saw  not  a  single  cloud 
hanging  over  her  future  days.  Poor  girl !  if  she  had 
got  but  a  glimpse  of  the  dreary  lot  that  waited  her, 
she  must  have  died  on  the  spot,  in  pure  despair ;  and 
a  happy  thing  it  would  have  been  for  her,  considering 
how  Billy  has  carried  on,  and  what  a  life  she 's  led 
with  him. 

"Ah,"  continued  the  old  man,  bringing  his  coat- 
sleeve  in  use  again,  "I've  seen  many  sad  changes, 
and  bitter  contrasts,  and  heart-breaking  disappoint- 


A   NIGHT-SCENE.  67 

ments,  in  my  time ;  but  my  old  eyes  never  saw  a  sight 
that  went  to  my  heart  like  this, — Billy  Gorman  driv 
ing  his  own  sweet  wife  into  the  street,  with  blows  and 
beastly  abuse,  and  forcing  her  to  seek  a  shelter  with 
strangers.  May  God  pardon  him,  and  make  him  atone 
for  the  crime,  even  yet,  the  wretched  man  !  " 

"  He  deserves  hanging  !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  by 
standers,  moved  to  indignation  by  the  old  man's 
affecting  reminiscences. 

"Ah,  it's  all  the  work  of  drink, '\answered  the  old 
man;  "there's  not  a  better  or  more  sensible  man 
than  Billy  Gorman,  anywhere,  when  he  's  free  of 
liquor." 

"  Then  why  don't  he  keep  free?"  demanded  the 
other.  "  I  'd  like  to  give  him  a  taste  of  the  pump  !  " 

"Alas,  it's  the  old  story,"  rejoined  the  old  man; 
"he's  no  longer  master  of  himself;  he  's  a  slave  to 
his  appetite,  and  it's  bearing  him  on  to  perdition 
fast." 

"This  rum-dealing  is  an  infamous  business,"  re 
marked  the  individual  who  had  dwelt  upon  the  gen 
erosity  of  Harry  Hanson ;  "  an  infamous  business,"  he 
repeated,  with  emphasis,  "because  it  thrives  on  the 
worst  passions,  and  most  shameful  weaknesses,  of  man 
kind.  I  wonder  how  any  man  who  pursues  it  can  re 
spect  himself,  or  hold  up  his  head  among  decent  men. 
For  my  part,  I  don't  envy  Rob  Fiscal  the  money  he 
gets  from  such  miserable  wretches  as  this  Bill  Gor 
man  ;  it  would  burn  my  hands  like  the  price  of 
murder." 


68  BUBBLETON    PAEISH. 

I  started,  at  the  sound  of  the  name  he  had  men 
tioned. 

"Is  it  Robert  Fiscal,  of  Wine-street,  to  whom  you 
allude  ?  "  inquired  I. 

"Yes,  sir,  he  is  the  man,"  he  returned;  "he  has 
made  a  fortune  in  the  liquor-trade,  and  how  many 
families  he  has  helped  to  ruin  can't  be  told.  It  is  at 
his  store  that  Gorman  spends  all  his  money,  and  learns 
the  art  of  turning  his  family  adrift  on  the  world. 
And  yet  this  man  claims  respectability,  moves  in 
what  is  called  the  best  society,  and  belongs  to  one  of 
the  leading  churches.  I  would  like  to  be  his  minister 
for  a  single  day  — ' ' 

I  started  again,  and  felt  myself  blushing  to  the 
roots  of  my  hair ;  but,  fortunately,  the  darkness  ren 
dered  my  face  invisible,  and  I  saw  no  reason  for  sup 
posing  that  I  had  been  recognized. 

" — I  Avould  thunder  upon  his  conscience  a  few  of 
those  old  Bible  truths,  which  he  seems  to  have  for 
gotten,  and  of  which  little  seems  to  be  said  in  his 
church,"  pursued  the  man,  warming  with  the  import 
ance  of  his  subject. 

I  pursued  my  way  homeward,  without  waiting  to 
hear  more. 

Robert  Fiscal  —  as  the  reader  may  have  surmised 
—  was  "  one  of  our  leading  men ;  "  but  I  did  not  find 
the  reflection  particularly  comforting,  at  this  moment. 

Indeed,  I  began  to  be  conscious  that  a  most  un 
pleasant  duty  devolved  upon  me,  in  reference  to  this 
respectable  brother  and  his  thriving  business.  Al- 


A   NIGHT-SCENE.  69 

ready  I  beheld  Bubbleton  in  fierce  commotion,  and 
myself  an  exile  from  its  polished  associations  and  sul 
try  friendship. 

At  home,  another  surprise  awaited  me.  On  enter 
ing  the  study,  I  was  greeted  by  the  sight  of  a  very 
luxurious  chair,  having  an  elaborate  appendage  for 
writing  purposes,  and  surmounted  by  a  piece  of  exqui 
site  carving.  I  was  sure  that  it  could  not  have  cost 
less  than  fifty  dollars.  To  a  young  man  of  my  sim 
ple  tastes  and  limited  observation,  it  was  a  gift  of 
enormous  grandeur,  and  I  could  not  but  render  silent 
homage  to  the  generosity  that  bestowed  it. 

I  presently  discovered  that  a  neat  little  note  was 
attached  to  the  chair,  the  perusal  of  which  left  me  in 
a  state  of  mind  not  easily  described.  It  contained 
the  compliments,  &c.,  of  my  "dear  friend  and  brother, 
ROBERT  FISCAL"  ! 


IX. 

MR.   FISCAL5  S   PRESENT. 


DURING  some  minutes,  my  mind  was  agitated  by  a 
violent  struggle.  I  paced  the  room,  contending,  at 
every  step,  with  the  selfish  suggestions  that  be 
leaguered  me.  But,  in  the  end,  my  resolution  tri 
umphed,  and  conscience  put  the  base  herd  of  tempters 
to  flight. 

"Mr.  Robert  Fiscal,"  said  I,  addressing  the  chair 
in  the  name  of  its  donor,  "  I  shall  avoid  the  snare  you 
have  so  adroitly  contrived.  I  will  not  forswear  my 
ministerial  faithfulness  on  any  such  terms.  You 
can't  have  my  conscience  for  such  a  paltry  considera 
tion.  Conscience  is  supposed  to  be  the  heart  of  one's 
manhood,  Robert  Fiscal,  and  I  ought  to  prize  it  more 
than  the  fine  present  you  have  sent  me. 

"  Suppose  I  accept  this  luxurious  chair,  and  put 
my  scruples  about  your  trade  down  under  this  elastic 
cushion.  Suppose  I  seat  myself  here, —  stifling  a 
twinge  of  self-reproach,  —  and  try  to  compose  a  Chris 
tian  sermon.  What  shall  I  have  for  a  text,  Robert 
Fiscal?  Every  passage  of  Holy  Writ  that  occurs  to 
me  seems  a  little  unfitting.  I  am  quite  embarrassed 
in  the  effort  to  select  a  subject.  The  chair  is  n't 


MR.    FISCAL' S   PRESENT.  71 

suggestive ;  or,  rather,  it  does  n't  suggest  the  right 
things.  If  I  were  to  write  just  what  it  prompts  me 
to  say,  and  rehearse  it  to  you  next  Sunday  from  the 
pulpit,  you  would  declare  that  I  had  scandalized  the 
church.  I  should  represent  religion  to  be  such  an 
epicurean  sort  of  an  affair  that  even  your  conscience 
Avould  burst  from  its  lethargy,  and  brand  my  speech 
as  infamous ! 

' '  I  dare  say  you  imagine  that  I  find  the  chair 
comfortable.  Far  from  it,  Robert  Fiscal !  I  should 
suppose  it  stuffed  with  porcupine-quills.  You  may 
think  me  a  little  superstitious ;  but  that  carved  rose, 
just  above  my  head,  might  have  bloomed  in  Golgotha, 
considering  the  ghastly  hue  it  wears  as  I  look  upon 
it  now  ! 

' '  Perhaps  I  might  overcome  these  whims  of  feel 
ing,  in  the  course  of  time,  and  find  the  beautiful  chair 
you  have  given  me  growing  easy  and  comfortable. 

"  But  there  would  come  a  time,  if  I  should  live, 
Robert  Fiscal,  when  —  summing  up  the  results  of  my 
ministry,  in  the  evening  of  life,  and  calculating  the 
amount  of  integrity  with  which  I  had  fulfilled  its 
demands  —  your  chair  would  become  transformed  into 
an  engine  of  torment,  like  the  iron  bed  of  Procrustes. 
And,  as  the  solemn  twilight  of  Time  gloomed  my  dim 
sight,  the  pale  faces  of  the  poor  and  wronged  would 
glare  upon  me,  demanding  why  I,  clothed  with  au 
thority  from  God,  had  never  pleaded  their  cause 
against  the  wicked  and  the  proud !  Ah,  Robert 
Fiscal,  I  dread  your  displeasure  less  than  theirs  !  " 


72  BUBBLETON   PAKISH. 

So  I  went  to  sleep,  firm  in  the  resolution  of  visit 
ing  my  parishioner  in  the  morning,  and  appealing  to 
his  conscience  against  the  iniquity  of  his  business. 
Being  addicted  to  the  ancient  habit  of  dreaming,  I 
dreamed  that  night,  that,  while  I  was  sitting  in  Mr. 
Fiscal' s  chair,  composing  a  sermon,  half  a  dozen  dis 
mally  disguised  figures  entered  the  room,  and  bound 
me  securely  to  my  seat.  Then  it  seemed  that  the 
seductive  chair  suddenly  changed  into  one  of  those 
horrible  contrivances,  in  which  the  Romish  inquisitors 
were  accustomed  to  place  their  victims,  before  the  in 
fliction  of  the  torture.  The  terror  with  which  this 
proceeding  inspired  me  dissolved  the  bands  of  sleep, 
and  I  spent  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  arranging 
a  plan  of  attack  for  the  morrow. 

In  the  morning,  I  was  detained  above  an  hour  by  a 
visitor. 

He  was  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  respectable  of 
my  parishioners.  His  name  was  Silas  Willet.  His 
bent  frame,  supported  by  a  cane,  and  his  venerable 
countenance,  crowned  with  long  white  locks,  togeth 
er  with  his  somewhat  antiquated  style  of  dress, 
imparted  to  him  quite  a  patriarchal  air.  He  had  laid 
the  foundation  of  Bubbleton,  while  in  the  prime  of 
life,  and  was,  for  many  yeans,  its  wealthiest,  as  well 
as  its  most  reputable,  citizen  ;  but  a  commercial  crisis 
came,  and  the  old  man's  property  was  entirely  swept 
away.  A  man  less  scrupulously  honest  would  have 
contrived  means  for  preserving  something ;  but  Silas 
Willet  cheerfully  made  himself  a  beggar.  His  chief 


MR.  FISCAL'S  PRESENT.  73 

earthly  trust  was  now  placed  in  an  only  son,  a  young 
man  of  generous  disposition  and  promising  talents. 

Of  late,  however,  young  Willet  had  shown  a  tend 
ency  towards  dissipation  ;  had  neglected  his  business ; 
frequented  questionable  society,  and  treated  the 
counsel  of  his  venerable  parent  with  disrespect.  It 
was  only  the  preceding  evening,  as  the  old  man  now 
informed  me,  that  the  son  had  become  brutally  in 
toxicated,  and  had  betrayed  an  extreme  of  depravity 
that  threatened  to  break  the  patriarch's  heart. 

"  I  have  never  before  known  a  sorrow  like  this," 
said  the  old  man,  bitterly.  "That  the  boy  whom  I 
reared  with  such  care,  and  contemplated  with  such 
pride, —  to  whom  I  gave  my  own  manhood  and  my 
untarnished  name, —  that  he  should  fall  thus,  and 
make  his  old  father  the  witness  and  victim  of  his 
shame, —  0,  it 's  the  bitterest  thought  I  ever  knew 
in  my  life  !  The  only  consolation  I  can  realize  at  all 
is  that  his  mother  did  not  survive  to  behold  his  ruin, 
and  feel  the  sorrow  of  this  day !  She,  at  least,  did 
not  go  mourning  to  her  grave." 

The  poor  old  man's  tears  flowed  fast,  and  his  voice 
died  away  in  a  groan,  as  he  contemplated  the  sorrow 
and  disgrace  which  had  so  suddenly  overtaken  his 
lingering  steps. 

After  I  had  promised  to  go  and  counsel  the  young 
man  myself,  and  had  administered  the  meagre  conso 
lation  which  the  apparent  hopelessness  of  the  case 
afforded,  the  patriarch  took  his  departure,  and  I 
sallied  forth  in  quest  of  Robert  Fiscal. 
7 


74  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

The  store  of  this  gentleman  occupied  a  conspicuous 
place  on  Wine-street,  and  a  large  gilt  sign  announced, 
in  general  terms,  that  "West  India  Goods"  might 
be  had,  either  by  "  -wholesale  or  retail,"  within. 

The  sign-board  was  innocent  of  any  intimation  con 
cerning  "Liquors,"  and  I  had  not  been  aware  that 
any  were  sold  on  the  premises  until  the  last  evening. 
This  branch  of  trade,  as  it  subsequently  appeared, 
monopolized  a  fine  room  in  the  rear  of  the  building, 
where  the  "eccentricities  "  to  which  it  gave  occasion 
might  be  indulged,  with  the  less  risk  of  incurring 
scandal. 

This  arrangement  was  indicative  of  a  certain 
change  in  public  opinion,  as  regarded  the  respectabil 
ity  of  the  liquor  traffic,  which  was  gradually  trans 
piring  twenty  years  ago.  Already,  a  large  and 
influential  part  of  the  community  had  begun  to  ques 
tion  the  lawfulness  of  the  whole  business  ;  and  argu 
ments,  supported  by  appalling  statistics,  and  protests, 
uttered  with  kindling  eloquence,  were  creating  a 
profound  interest  throughout  the  country. 

The  less  thoughtful  and  more  obtuse  dealers  paid 
little  regard  to  these  significant  "  signs  of  the  time," 
but  continued  to  outrage  the  new  ideas  which  were 
growing  up  in  their  midst,  with  an  obstinate  and 
half-savage  indifference. 

But  those  of  a  more  sagacious  and  conciliatory 
style  of  mind,  prompted  by  a  kind  of  prophetic  in 
stinct,  had  already  made  some  concessions  to  the 
reformatory  opinions.  They  were  less  public  in  their 


MR.  FISCAL'S  PRESENT.  75 

operations.  They  endeavored  to  divert  attention  from 
this  branch  of  business  by  associating  it  with  others, 
to  which  they  apparently  devoted  their  chief  care. 
They  spoke  respectfully  of  the  temperance  leaders, 
and  expressed  a  limited  sympathy  with  the  new  move 
ment. 

To  this  class  of  dissemblers  Robert  Fiscal  belonged. 


X. 

THE   INTEKVIEW. 

JUST  as  I  approached  the  store  of  Mr.  Fiscal,  I 
saw  a  young  man  enter,  whom  I  recognized  at  once 
as  the  son  of  Silas  Willet.  His  unsteady  carriage 
and  disfigured  features  confirmed  all  that  his  unhappy 
parent  had  said  of  him. 

I  followed,  and  saw  him  enter  the  private  room, 
mentioned  in  the  last  record. 

Here,  then,  was  another  witness  against  my  gener 
ous  parishioner. 

Mr.  Fiscal  was  standing  by  his  ledger,  in  earnest 
but  guarded  conversation  with  a  gigantic  man,  who 
wore  a  leathern  apron,  and  had  his  sleeves  tucked  up 
above  the  elbows.  As  both  were  standing  with  their 
backs  towards  the  door,  my  entrance  was  not  observed, 
nor  was  I  disposed  to  interrupt  an  interview  of  so 
much  apparent  interest.  I  had  noticed,  however, 
before  taking  up  a  newspaper,  and  seating  myself  at 
the  opposite  side  of  the  store,  that  the  large  man 
spoke  with  a  muffled  sort  of  vehemence,  gesticulating 
angrily  with  his  bare,  brawny  arms ;  and  that  Mr. 


THE   INTERVIEW.  "[7 

Fiscal,  whose  countenance  -wore  a  troubled  look, 
was  making  an  humble  effort  to  soothe  and  appease 
him. 

The  thought  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  chosen  an 
unpropitious  moment  for  executing  my  mission,  and  I 
ran  my  eyes  over  the  paper  with  some  indecision  of 
purpose.  Presently,  the  large  man's  words  became 
audible : 

"I  insist  that  he  shall  not  have  another  glass,  on 
any  terms.  You  must  promise  me  that,  Mr.  Fiscal, 
or—" 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  did  not  reach  me. 

But  Mr.  Fiscal  seemed  to  conform  to  the  other's 
demand,  as  he  made  a  deprecating  gesture,  and,  finally, 
the  man  with  the  apron  stalked  out  of  the  store. 

Then  I  recognized  the  kind-hearted  blacksmith, 
whom  I  had  seen  taking  charge  of  the  inebriate's 
family,  on  the  preceding  night. 

Mr.  Fiscal' s  manner  expressed  some  embarrass 
ment  when  he  saw  me ;  and  he  studied  my  counte 
nance  a  little,  in  order  to  discover,  I  suppose,  whether 
I  had  become  cognizant  of  the  subject  of  the  late 
conversation.  But,  anticipating,  it  is  probable,  a 
few  compliments  upon  his  generosity,  he  appeared 
glad  to  see  me,  and  invited  me  to  step  into  the  house ; 
which,  by  the  way,  was  located  quite  near. 

"  Brother  Fiscal,"  said  I,  when  we  were  seated 
alone  in  the  parlor,  "  I  am  rather  opposed  to  accept 
ing  presents,  as  valuable  as  that  which  your  generosity 
prompted  you  to  send  me  yesterday." 
7* 


78  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

His  countenance  expressed  no  little  surprise  at 
these  words.  . 

"  My  reason  is,"  continued  I,  "  that  such  presents 
seem  to  place  one  under  peculiar  obligations  to  the 
givers,  so  that  one  does  not  feel  at  liberty  to  regard 
them  precisely  like  other  people.  Now,  such  a  situa 
tion  might  prove  very  embarrassing  to  a  minister.  It 
might  prove  a  hindrance  to  that  independence  of 
speech  which  his  office  and  position  exact,  and  to 
that  equality  of  intercourse  which  he  is  bound  to 
maintain  with  his  parish.  On  this  account,  after 
thinking  much  on  the  affair,  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  ought  to  decline  your  generous  gift ;  and 
I  hope  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  believe  that  I  do 
it  with  worthy  motives." 

During  the  delivery  of  this  rather  parliamentary 
speech,  my  parishioner's  face  underwent  a  variety  of 
changes,  in  which  surprise,  shame  and  resentment, 
alternately  predominated.  Nor  can  I  venture  to  hope 
that  my  own  face  was  less  expressive  of  the  emotions 
that  were  working  within  my  mind ;  for  all  my  friends 
tell  me  that  I  have  the  most  "  tell-tale  look,"  when 
under  any  particular  excitement  of  feeling,  they  ever 
saw  on  a  human  face. 

Hence,  feeling,  as  T  did,  in  my  heart,  that  Mr. 
Fiscal  was  a  selfish,  culpable,  scandalous  sort  of  a 
man,  in  view  of  his  relations  with  intemperance,  I 
suppose  I  couldn  't  help  looking  the  disagreeable  con 
viction  at  him  pretty  graphically, 

"  Well,  Brother  Chester,"  said  he,  at  length,  with 


THE   INTERVIEW.  79 

an  effort  at  self-recovery,  "your  reason  may  be  good 
for  the  generality  of  cases,  but  in  the  present  instance, 
there  is  no  cause  for  any  scruples  of  the  kind.  I  beg 
you  will  accept  the  trifling  gift  I  sent  you,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  consider  yourself  under  no  restraint  or 
embarrassing  sense  of  obligation.  I  wished  to  offer  a 
slight  testimony  of  the  great  admiration  I  feel  for 
your  talents  — 

But  I  will  not  attempt  to  copy  the  fulsome  sentence. 

"  Still,"  pursued  the  parishioner,  "do  not  think 
that  I  would  have  your  judgment  of  my  ill-deserts 
modified  in  the  least,  or  your  freedom  controlled,  on 
account  of  any  such  trivial  gift.  If  you  see  occasion 
to  remind  me  of  any  deviation.  I  hope  you  will  use 
the  utmost  freedom,  and  I  shall  consider  myself 
indebted  to  your  faithfulness." 

That  was  noble,  certainly.  I  regarded  the  man 
with  momentary  esteem. 

' '  You  greatly  enhance  the  value  of  your  present, 
Brother  Fiscal,"  said  I,  "by  permitting  me  to  retain 
it  on  such  terms.  And  the  truly  noble  sentiments 
you  express  give  me  courage  to  discharge  an  unpleas 
ant  duty,  which  has  been  weighing  on  my  mind  since 
last  evening." 

He  started,  and  a  shade  passed  over  his  counte 
nance.  • 

"  The  truth  is,  Brother  Fiscal,  I  wish  to  speak  to 
you  in  relation  to  a  branch  of  business  in  which  you 
are  engaged.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  deal  in 
intoxicating  liquors ;  and  I  can't  get  rid  of  the  con  vie- 


80  BUBBLETOJST    PARISH. 

tion,  that  I  ought  to  reason  with  you  about  the  impro 
priety  of  being  connected  with  such  a  species  of  trade. 
I  allude  to  the  matter  most  reluctantly,  you  may  be 
lieve  ;  but  of  course  I  should  be  unworthy  of  your 
esteem,  and  of  the  confidence  of  the  parish,  if  I 
shrunk  from  the  performance  of  what  I  feel  to  be  my 
duty." 

I  paused  to  mark  the  effect  of  these  words. 

A  frown  had  gathered  on  Mr.  Fiscal' s  brow.  He 
sat  motionless,  with  his  eyes  cast  down,  and  one  hand 
locked  convulsively  over  his  watch-chain. 

I  knew  that  I  had  offended  him,  in  spite  of  his 
vaunted  toleration. 

But  it  was  too  late  now  to  retract,  even  had  I 
wished  to  play  the  recreant,  which,  thank  Heaven,  I 
did  not.  I  continued : 

' '  I  need  not  dwell  upon  the  many  evils  that  intem 
perance  brings  upon  community.  They  are  before 
every  man's  sight.  You,  yourself,  must  be  conscious 
of  them.  You  cannot  fail  to  see,  if  you  will  but  con 
sider  palpable  facts,  that  some  FOUR-FIFTHS  of  the 
crime,  pauperism  and  general  misery  of  society,  spring 
from  the  use  of  alcoholic  liquors.  What  a  terrible 
fountain  of  ruin,  Brother  Fiscal !  Now,  what  I  de 
sire  is,  that  you  should  ask  yourself,  your  better  self, 
the  question,  whether  it  becomes  a  Christian,  or  a 
good  citizen,  to  stand  connected  with  a  traffic  which 
involves  such  unparalleled  guilt  and  suffering. 

"  Ponder  this  question,  brother,  in  all  candor  and 


THE   INTERVIEW.  81 

seriousness,  and  I  will  abide  by  the  decision  to  which 
your  conscience  may  lead  you." 

Mr.  Fiscal  rose,  and  began  to  pace  the  room ;  a 
common  resource  with  men.  when  driven  to  extremi 
ties.  His  face  was  pale,  and  his  voice  unsteady,  from 
the  effort  he  was  making  to  suppress  his  resentment. 

"I  find,"  he  observed,  "that  you  have  been  de 
ceived  in  reference  to  the  character  of  my  business. 
Do  not  suppose  that  /  keep  one  of  those  vulgar  dens 
from  which  flow  so  much  misery  and  shame.  I  make 
my  business  respectable,  sir,  because  my  customers 
are  gentlemen,  men  who  respect  themselves ;  and  I  do 
not  consider  myself  answerable  —  for  —  the  wretch 
edness  —  of  which  you  speak." 

"Then,  my  brother,"  returned  I,  "permit  me  to 
assure  you  that  you  are  deceived ;  for,  last  night,  I 
saw  one  of  your  customers  drive  his  family  into  the 
street,  in  the  madness  of  intoxication  ;  and,  this  morn 
ing,  an  old  man  came  to  solicit  my  counsel  in  behalf 
of  his  son,  who  is  also  one  of  your  customers,  and 
who  is  fast  descending  to  ruin,  under  the  same  fatal 
influence." 

"There  must  be  some  mistake,  sir,  about  these 
cases,"  returned  Mr.  Fiscal,  sharply.  "  I  tell  you 
again  that  I  don't  keep  one  o£  your  vulgar  liquor- 
shops.  I  make  my  business  respectable;  that  is, 
the  little  I  do  in  that  line,  for  most  of  my  trade,  as 
you  may  have  noticed,  has  reference  to  quite  other 
things." 

His  anger  had  begun  to  express  itself  in  words,  as 


82  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

well  as  in  looks,  and  I  saw  that  nothing  was  to  be 
done  with  him. 

Nevertheless,  I  could  not  help  assuring  him  that 
there  was  no  mistake  about  the  cases  I  had  alluded 
to;  and.  to  confirm  the  assertion,  I  gave  him  the 
names  of  the  parties. 

But  this  only  exasperated  him  the  more ;  and,  after 
making  another  vain  effort  to  enlist  his  conscience 
against  his  cupidity,  I  was  obliged  to  leave  him,  with 
the  conviction  that  I  had  only  enlisted  his  enmity 
against  myself. 

Perhaps  the  importance  of  this  affair  may  seem  to 
be  over-rated  by  the  space  which  I  have  allowed  it  to 
occupy ;  but,  as  it  was  my  first  case  of  actual  colli 
sion  with  a  member  of  the  parish,  I  thought  my  read 
ers  might  like  to  have  a  circumstantial  statement  of  it. 


XI. 

THE   LEGEND    OF   SIR   BRASIL   AND   HIS   FALCON. 

IT  was  several  days  after  my  inauspicious  inter 
view  with  Robert  Fiscal,  before  I  obtained  access  to 
the  son  of  .Silas  Willet.  The  young  man  had  been 
running  a  very  destructive  career  in  dissipation,  and 
his  character  had  deteriorated  rapidly.  Though  per 
fectly  sober  when  I  conversed  with  him,  he  showed  a 
great  deal  of  surly  impatience  under  my  counsel,  and 
a  headstrong  wilfulness  that  was  discouraging. 

Still,  I  did  not  leave  him  until  persuaded  that  I 
had  driven  a  few  wholesome  convictions  into  his  tor 
pid  heart,  and  obtained  some -evidence  that  he  felt  the 
claims  I  had  urged  upon  him. 

My  exertions  proved  more  successful  than  I  had 
dared  to  hope  ;  if,  indeed,  the  reformation  which  took 
place  in  the  young  man's  habits,  soon  after,  was  justly 
traceable  to  any  influence  I  had  been  able  to  exert, — 
a  supposition  which  the  fact  did  not  altogether  war 
rant,  considering  what  an  example  of  virtue  and  man 
liness  he  was  blessed  with  in  the  person  of  his  venera 
ble  parent. 

On  the  ensuing  Sunday,  I  was  not  surprised  to  find 
Mr.  Fiscal' s  pew  vacant.  The  circumstance  attracted 


84  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

general  attention,  however,  as  the  liquor-dealer  was 
known  to  be  a  prompt  church-goer,  and,  withal,  an 
unequivocal  admirer  of  the  new  minister. 

When  I  announced  the  text,  in  the  afternoon,  i  'Am  I 
therefore  become  your  enemy  because  I  tell  you  the 
truth?  "  the  words  seemed  so  pregnant  with  meaning, 
that  many  were  the  inquiring  glances  exchanged,  and 
very  eager  was  the  look  of  expectation  that  shone  from 
the  multitude  of  upturned  faces.  It  seemed  to  signify 
that  something  characteristic  of  the  Bubbleton  pulpit 
was  about  to  transpire  ;  some  pyrotechnic  display  of  elo 
quence,  to  dazzle  the  fancy  of  the  gay,  or  some  imper 
tinent  innuendo  of  reform,  to  startle  the  placidity  of  the 
serious. 

The  subject  of  the  sermon,  as  any  one  would  infer, 

Was  THE  FOLLY  OF  BEING  OFFENDED  BY  THE  UT 
TERANCE  OF  THE  TRUTH.  What  is  truth?  It  is 
God's  eternal  verity,  the  vital  principle  upon  which 
the  universe  is  framed.  What  is  the  object  of  truth, 
in  relation  to  ourselves  ?  To  bring  us  into  harmony 
with  God, — to  save  us.  How,  then,  should  we  regard 
those  who  proffer  us  the  truth,  nay,  urge  our  accept 
ance  of  it  ?  As  enemies  ?  By  no  means ;  but  as  our 
friends,  as  our  true  benefactors. 

But  truth  is  a  blunt,  unfashionable  quality,  and 
often  puts  self-conceit  out  of  countenance,  and  even 
drives  out  the  money-changers  of  self-interest.  In 
such  cases,  what  shall  we  do  ?  Shall  we  cherish  the 
truth,  and  resign  our  pampered  favorite  ?  Alas  !  few 
of  us  are  wise  or  strong  enough  to  make  the  sacrifice, 
as  we  foolishly  call  it. 


LEGEND    OF   SIR  BRASIL  AND    HIS   FALCON.      85 

We  can't  see  why  truth  may  not  compromise  mat 
ters  with  us,  leaving  the  most  comely  of  our  idols,  and 
winking  at  our  least  culpable  peccadilloes.  And,  be 
cause  the  stern,  indomitable  principle  won't  yield,  or 
accommodate  our  caprices  in  any  manner,  we  go  into  a 
passion,  call  its  minister  our  enemy,  and  bid  him  be 
gone, —  little  knowing  what  a  suicidal  piece  of  mad 
ness  we  are  obeying. 

To  illustrate  this,  I  related  the  story  of  SIR  BRA 
SIL  AND  HIS  FALCON. 

Sir  Brasil,  wearied  with  the  toil  of  the  chase,  and 
parched  with  extreme  thirst,  ' '  leashed  his  favorite 
falcon  to  his  wrist,  and,  girding  on  his  sword,  straight 
took  his  way  along  the  silent  groves,"  in  search  of 
some  refreshing  spring. 

There  was  no  water 

In  all  the  summer  woods.     The  insatiate  sun 
Had  drunk  all  up,  and  sapped  each  secret  spring, 
Save  the  round  beads  of  dew,  that  nestling  dwelt 
Deep  in  the  bosom  of  the  fox-glove's  bells. 
There  was  no  water.     Beds  of  vanished  streams 
Mocked  him  with  memories  of  lucid  waves, 
That  rose  and  fell  before  his  fancy's  eye 
In  glassy  splendor.     As  the  soothing  wind 
Stole  softly  o'er  the  leaves,  it  gave  low  tones, 
That  sounded,  in  Sir  BrasiPs  sharpened  ear, 
Like  distant  ripplings  of  a  pleasant  stream  ; 
But  there  was  none. 

Sir  Brasil  pursued  his  wearisome  search;  "his 
brow  was  hot,  his  tongue  beat  dry  against  his  teeth." 
In  a  word,  he  was  ready  to  expire  of  thirst. 


86  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

At  length,  after  incredible  perseverance,  he  reached 
the  dry  and  sandy  bed  of  a  vanished  stream.  The 
disappointment  is  cruel  enough ;  and  the  poor  knight 
is  just  resigning  himself  to  despair,  when  he  discovers, 
trickling  "from  out  the  crevice  of  a  rock,"  a  few 
"  sluggish  drops  of  dark-green  water."  Hope  revives 
in  Sir  Brasil's  breast.  He  releases  the  falcon  from 
his  wrist,  and,  "stopping  the  jewelled  mouth-piece 
of  his  golden  bugle  with  a  plug  of  moss,"  converts  it 
into  a  cup  to  catch  the  drops  of  water  as  they  fall. 
"  With  toil  and  pain,  he  gathers  each  slow  drop,"  un 
til  "  the  dear  draught  is  level  with  the  golden  rim ;  " 
then  raises  it  eagerly  to  his  lips. 

But,  at  this  critical  instant,  what  does  the  audacious 
falcon  do  but  dash,  "  with  swift  stroke  of  his  long  pin 
ion,"  the  precious  cup  to  the  ground  !  No  wonder  the 
knight  frowned,  and  regarded  his  favorite  with  aston 
ished  anger.  "  Once  again,  Sir  Brasil,  with  weary  hand 
and  long  delay,  filled  up  the  golden  measure."  Again 
he  raised  it  to  his  lips,  when,  wonderful  to  relate,  the 
falcon  again  dashed  it  from  his  hand. 

"  Now,  by  the  sacred  cup  which  Christ  did  drink 
of,"  swore  the  enraged  Sir  Brasil,  "I  will  wring  thy 
neck,  thou  foolish  bird,  an'  thou  do  that  again  !  " 

"A  third  time  did  he  stoop,  and,  horn  in  hand, 
bend  his  broad  back  to  catch  the  sluggish  stream ;  a 
third  time  did  he  raise  the  bugle  towards  his  lips ;  a 
third  time,  with  swift  wing,  the  falcon  dashed  the 
measure  from  his  hand." 

Then  Sir  Brasil's  eye  flashed  with  humid  fire.    His 


LEGEND   OF  SIR  BRASIL  AND  HIS  FALCON.      87 

thin-drawn  lip  quivered,  his  cheek  grew  pale,  and, 
with  an  ungloved  hand,  he  smote  the  bird  full  in  the 
throat.  It  fluttered  on  his  wrist,  and,  with  panting 
strength,  spread  out  its  arrowy  wings,  convulsively, 
as  if  it  would  flee  right  sunward  from  black  death. 
Its  curved  beak  opened  wide,  gaping  for  air.  Its 
large,  round,  golden  eye  turned  on  Sir  Brasil,  with  a 
look  of  sad,  reproachful  love ;  then,  with  a  faint  gasp, 
it  fluttered  —  fell  —  and  died. 

"Well  a  day !  "  said  the  knight,  "the  bird  was 
mulish  and  deserved  its  fate ;  yet  would  I  had  not 
killed  it!" 

Killed  it  was,  however,  and  I  suppose  that  most 
people  would  agree  with  Sir  Brasil,  that  it  deserved 
its  fate.  It  presumptuously  interfered  with  the 
knight's  pleasure;  nay,  with  unpardonable  impudence, 
repeatedly  snatched  from  him  that  which  he  consid 
ered  essential  to  his  existence. 

You  will  say  that  the  silly  bird  received  but  the 
just  reward  of  its  inexplicable  behavior. 

But  let  us  attend  to  the  sequel  of  this  curious 
story. 

Sir  Brasil,  finding  it  weary  work  filling  his  goblet 
with  these  sluggish  drops,  resolves  to  seek  ' '  the  source 
of  the  thin  stream.  Through  the  forsaken  beds  of 
ancient  streams,/ over  massive  boulder  stones,  humped 
with  old  age,  and  coated  with  gray  moss, —  over  trunks 
of  rotting  trees,  that  in  .the  night  lit  with  pale  splen 
dor  the  dark  path  around,  and  slept  in  the  light,  — 
over  sharp,  volcanic  soil,  that  crackled  beneath  his 


88  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

tread  —  Sir  Brasil  took  his  way,  with  weary  feet,  and 
tongue  that  often  wagged  in  sanctimonious  oath." 

Thus  passes  "  a  full,  slow  hour,"  and  the  miserable 
knight  is  fainting  with  thirst,  "when  lo !  like  sap 
phire  through  the  smoke-clouds  of  a  maiden's  hair, 
gleamed  something  blue.  It  twisted  as  it  shone,  and 
glanced,  in  the  distance,  like  an  azure  spray.  As 
speeds  the  Arab  to  the  green  oasis,  after  five  days' 
thirst,  so  Brasil  sped,  nerving  his  flagging  limbs, 
towards  the  spot  so  distant  and  so  dear. 

"  But,  as  he  came  nearer,  a  poisonous  vapor  seemed 
to  load  the  air  ;  and  foul  mephitic  clouds,  that  clogged 
each  sense,  hovered  oppressively  about  him.  The 
poisoned  air  smote  on  his  brain  like  an  invisible 
sword,  and  clove  his  consciousness.  He  raved  and 
reeled,  and  threw  his  arms  aloft,  and  tried  to  pray ; 
and  spoke  pet  words  to  his  dead  falcon,  as  if  it 
were  alive.  Then,  suddenly,  with  one  great  effort,  he 
seemed  to  regain  himself,  and  strode  onward. 

"  As  he  approached  the  place  whence  shot  the  sap 
phire  gleam,  a  horrid  sight  burst  on  his  view.  Lo  ! 
coiling  on  a  mound,  lay  a  huge  green  serpent.  Tier 
upon  tier  of  emerald  scales,  that  glistened  into  blue, 
swept  upwards  in  grand  spirals.  His  great  head  lay 
open-jawed,  and  hanging  over  the  brink  of  a  steep 
rock;  while,  slavering  from  his  mouth,  trickled,  in 
sluggish  drops,  a  stream  of  distilled  poison,  green  and 
rank ! 

"  Sir  Brasil' s  heart  grew  sick ;  for  now  he  saw 
that  what  he  had  wished  to  drink,  and  what  the  falcon 


LEGEND    OF   SIR  BRASIL  AND   HIS   FALCON.      89 

had  wasted,  was  the  venom  that  slavered  from  the 
serpent  on  the  rock,  and,  filtering  through  some  secret 
stony  way,  welled  out  below,  in  green  and  sluggish 
drops  of  withering  poison."* 

Now,  who  does  not  see,  in  the  tragedy  of  the  poor 
falcon,  the  TOO  COMMON  FATE  OF  THE  TRUTH-SPEAK 
ERS,  in  all  times  ?  They  are  our  best  friends,  yet 
we  treat  them  as  enemies  ;  they  peril  their  own  wel 
fare  to  avert  destruction  from  us,  and  we  slay  them 
for  their  faithfulness  ! 

When,  thirsting  for  some  pleasure,  we  raise  the 
dear  goblet  to  our  lips,  and  they,  directed  by  a  holy 
instinct,  courageously  dash  it  from  our  hand,  we  do 
not  pause  to  inquire  whether  the  draught  be  poison, 
or  wait  until  we  shall  have  traced  it  to  its  source,  but 
precipitate  our  mad  wrath  upon  our  preservers,  and 
learn  at  last  how  foully  we  have  responded  to  the  love 
they  bore  us ! 

***** 

As  I  approached  the  conclusion  of  the  discourse,  it 
became  evident  that  its  keen  truths  were  taking  effect 
in  the  hearts  of  some  of  my  auditors.  While  most  of 
the  people  sat  motionless, —  their  undivided  attention 
fixed  upon  the  preacher,  and  expressions  of  surprise,  con 
viction  and  approbation,  playing  upon  their  eager  faces, 

*  This  most  instructive  legend  is  recited  in  a  splendid  poem,  by 
Fitz- James  O'Brien,  published  in  the  United  States  Review  for 
September,  1§53.  In  the  text  I  have  used  the  poem  quite  remorse 
lessly —  transposing  a  number  of  the  lines  to  suit  the  demands  of 
my  prose  version. 

8* 


90  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

there  were  a  few  who  began  to  shift  their  attitudes, 

with  a  perplexed  and  apprehensive  air,  and  with  an 
occasional  shrug  and  grimace,  denoting  something 
like  sudden  pain  or  alarm.  Wounded,  they  evidently 
were,  in  view  of  a  certain  sensitive  shrinking  from 
fresh  sentences,  which  became  more  and  more  obvious 
in  the  furtive  glances  they  cast  in  the  direction  of  the 
battery,  that  was  thus  demolishing  their  breast-work 
of  complacent  piety. 

My  discourse  was  written,  but  the  growing  excite 
ment  of  the  occasion  carried  me  beyond  my  manuscript. 
Pungent  sentences  —  such  as  I  could  never  have  pre 
meditated  in  the  retirement  of  my  study,  without 
trembling  for  the  consequences  of  uttering  them  — 
were  framed  in  the  fervor  of  the  moment,  and  launched, 
glowing  with  the  fire  of  impassioned  zeal,  into  the 
midst  of  the  astonished  audience. 

I  believe  that  I  must  have  been  rendered  desperate 
by  the  consciousness  of  my  temerity,  for  I  did  not 
retain  any  distinct  remembrance  of  what  I  said  during 
tli  is  impassioned  assault,  but  only  know  that  I  had  a 
sense  of  authority  and  freedom  that  made  me  indiffer 
ent  to  considerations  of  favor,  or  fears  of  censure. 

Two  faces  were  prominently  displayed  before  me, 
during  this  exciting  scene.  They  were  those  of  Mr. 
Arlington  and  his  daughter. 

The  calm  and  majestic  air  which  usually  marked 
that  gentleman,  was  exchanged  for  one  of  mingled  as 
tonishment  and  incredulity.  He  was  evidently  saved 
from  blank  amazement  by  partially  doubting  tho 


LEGEND    OF   SIR   BRASIL   AND   HIS   FALCON.      91 

report  of  his  senses.  He  gazed,  listened,  ruminated, 
marvelled,  and  consulted  the  countenances  of  other 
hearers.  Once,  for  an  instant,  his  glance  rested  on 
the  vacant  pew  of  Mr.  Fiscal,  from  which  it  recurred 
to  the  preacher,  and  settled  into  a  steadfast  gaze  of 
penetrating  inquiry. 

As  for  Miss  Arlington,  she  surprised  me  by  divest 
ing  herself  of  her  usual  abstraction,  and  listening  with 
evident  interest. 

Hitherto,  I  had  rarely  met  her  glance  during  the 
delivery  of  a  sermon,  nor  had  she  given  me  reason  to 
believe,  except  on  one  occasion,  that  she  felt  the 
least  concern  in  the  realities  of  religion.  Indeed,  I 
had  feared,  judging  from  the  little  that  my  acquaint 
ance  with  her  had  disclosed,  that  she  was  strongly 
inclined  to  scepticism,  and  inwardly  felt  that  all  faith 
was  a  pious  sham. 

On  this  occasion,  however,  her  demeanor  was  alto 
gether  different.  Ere  I  was  aware  of  having  inter 
ested  her,  she  was  looking  me  keenly  in  the  face, 
her  form  bent  forward,  her  lips  parted,  and  a  flush  of 
animating  sensation  tinging  her  cheeks.  Surprise, 
approval  and  anxiety,  were  obvious  in  her  attitude 
and  look. 

The  sermon  was  over ;  and,  while  the  anthem  was 
being  performed,  I  looked  at  my  watch,  and  found 
that  I  had  exceeded  my  usual  time  by  thirty-five 
minutes.  Considerable  bustle  was  apparent  in  some 
of  the  pews,  and  the  leading  brethren  telegraphed 
their  "impressions"  to  each  other.  I  saw  Miss 


92  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

Arlington  scanning  her  father's  serious  face,  while  he 
looked  anxiously  towards  Mr.  Gleason  and  Mr.  Wil- 
kins. 

The  congregation  being  dismissed,  Mr.  Arlington 
waited  for  me  in  the  porch,  where  I  was  greeted  with 
his  usual  benignity,  and  invited  to  join  his  family  at 
tea,  that  evening;  a  proposition  which  I  accepted 
with  some  natural  forebodings. 


XII. 

POLICY  AND   PRINCIPLE. 

ON  my  way  to  Mr.  Arlington's,  that  afternoon,  I 
suddenly  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  men, 
so  numerous  as  to  entirely  block  up  the  street.  At 
the  same  time,  I  recognized  the  tones  of  a  voice,  and 
the  outline  of  a  figure,  which  I  had  good  reason  to 
remember. 

The  crowd,  indeed,  was  assembled  in  honor  of  my 
acquaintance,  Mr.  Peppery ;  who.  from  the  elevation 
of  an  oil-cask,  and  with  commendable  vigor,  was 
denouncing  the  institution  of  slavery,  and  upbraiding 
its  northern  accomplices  and  apologists. 

His  arguments  were  rather  impressive,  when  he 
condescended  to  argue ;  but  his  invective  was  his  pet 
delight,  and  he  hurled  it  upon  his  auditors  with  con 
siderable  effect.  There  seemed  a  division  of  opinion 
among  them,  however ;  for  some  applauded  the  orator 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  sympathy,  and  others  angrily 
contradicted  him  with  the  asperity  of  prejudice.  But 
contradiction  was  the  fuel  with  which  the  fierce  little 
man  fed  his  philanthropic  indignation ;  and  those  who 
provoked  him  usually  received  a  shot  in  return  that 


94  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

tingled  in  their  blood,  and  inspired  an  exulting  peal 
from  the  opposite  party. 

I  elbowed  my  way  through  the  crowd  as  fast  as 
convenient,  not  caring  to  be  recognized  by  the  vehe 
ment  -reformer,  and  half  fearing  that  he  might  distin 
guish  me  by  a  personal  allusion. 

But,  whether  seen  or  not,  I  had  not  gone  beyond 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  before  a  volley  of  condemnation 
was  opened  against  the  church ;  and  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  hearing  those  charges  preferred  against  the  clergy 
with  which  all  readers  of  Garrisonian  literature  are 
familiar.  I  was  not  sufficiently  flattered  to  incline  me 
to  linger. 

During  tea,  Mr.  Arlington  spoke  pleasantly  on 
various  topics,  but  made  no  reference  to  the  sermon. 
His  wife  looked  slightly  troubled,  I  thought;  but 
Miss  Arlington's  face  beamed  with  unwonted  anima 
tion. 

After  we  had  left  the  table,  and  were  all  seated  hi 
the  parlor,  Mr.  Arlington  began  to  speak  of  a  lecture 
we  had  heard,  during  the  past  week,  before  the  lyce- 
um,  when,  suddenly  diverging,  as  if  by  accident,  he 
carelessly  observed  : 

"  By  the  way,  Brother  Chester,  your  sermon,  this 
afternoon,  was  rather  unique,  was  it  not  ?  a  little  out 
of  the  common  course." 

This  was  accompanied  by  a  very  penetrating  glance. 

I  answered  -that  it  was  a  discourse  in  which  I  felt 

more  than  ordinary  concern.     He  smiled,  beni^nlv 
i        •  •     j  Q    ji 

as  he  rejoined : 


POLICY   AND    PRINCIPLE.  95 

"  It  was  an  extraordinary  sermon,  in  several 
respects.  I  saw  that  it  attracted-  uncommon  atten 
tion.  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  talked  of  a  great 
deal.  In  fact,  Brother  Chester,  we  have  had  but 
very  few  of  such  sermons  preached  in  our  church." 

"  I  presume  not,"  answered  I,  chilled  by  the  sense 
of  something  ominous  in  this  indirect  method  of 
address. 

"  That  legend  of  Sir  Brasil  was  managed  with  fine 
effect,"  continued  Mr.  Arlington.  "  I  had  read  the 
story  myself,  but  never  though^  I  confess,  what  a 
trenchant  lesson  it  contains.  I  wonder  your  prede 
cessor,  Brother  Stringent,  never  saw  its  significance." 

It  was  impossible  not  to  see  this  covert  thrust,  but 
I  resolved  not  to  be  too  forward  in  apprehending  the 
allusion. 

I  replied,  simply,  by  saying  that  the  lesson  of  the 
story  was  obvious  enough,  I  should  suppose,  to  have 
attracted  the  notice  of  a  man  less  acute  than  Brother 
Stringent  seemed  to  have  been. 

A  just  perceptible  compression  of  the  lips  showed 
that  Mr.  Arlington  suspected  I  might  have  intended 
a  retort;  but  he  presently  resumed,  with  the  same 
sunny  countenance  that  usually  beamed  upon  the 
world : 

' '  It  occurred  to  me,  while  listening  to  your  pero 
ration,  that  the  strong  language  you  employed  might 
lead  strangers  to  suppose  you  intended  some  PER 
SONAL  APPLICATION  of  the  discourse.  No  doubt  the 
excitability  of  your  temperament  may  account  for  the 


96  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

terms  you  saw  fit  to  use ;  but  is  it  not  probable  that 
there  may  have  been  persons  present,  who.  not  having 
the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance,  would  give  to  your 
language  its  obvious  meaning,  and  fairly  conclude  that 
you  meant  to  arraign  the  parish  for  misdemeanors?  " 

"  It  is  not  unlikely,  I  think,  that  such  an  inference 
may  have  been  drawn,"  I  answered,  with  as  much 
composure  as  the  case  would  allow. 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  hear  that  any  of  the  brethren 
were  hurt,"  pursued  Mr.  Arlington ;  "for  we  seem  to 
be  enjoying  a  very  happy  and  harmonious  state  of 
things,  just  now ;  and  a  few  months  more  of  continued 
prosperity  would  efface  the  remembrance  of  those  dis 
cords,  which  Brother  Stringent  so  unwisely  pro 
moted." 

"  It  is  always  to  be  deplored  that  anything  should 
occur  to  disturb  the  peace  of  a  Christian  parish,"  I 
replied :  ' '  and  I  am  resolved  to  do  all  I  can  to  promote 
that  union,  and  that  love  among  the  brethren,  which 
is  consistent  with  the  faithful  administration  of  the 
truth." 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  my  parishioner  ob 
served  : 

"  You  will  be  Avilling  to  make  some  allowance,  I 
presume,  for  the  sensitiveness  of  our  people,  in  view 
of  the  provocations  they  suffered  from  your  predeces 
sor.  Indeed,  his  excessive  severity,  in  the  application 
of  his  principles,  so  aggravated  the  feelings  of  the 
brethren,  that  I  fear  they  will  not  endure  a  too  direct 
reference  to  their  failings.  It  will  be  necessary  to 


POLICY    AXD    PRINCIPLE.  97 

treat  their  errors  gently,  for  the  present,  lest  they 
contract  some  unhappy  prejudice  against  you,  to  the 
premature  loss  of  your  influence." 

"That  is,"  said  Miss  Arlington,  looking  up  from 
a  book  which  she  had  been  reading,  and  regarding  her 
father  with  a  kindling  look,  "  you  would  advise  the 
falcon  not  to  dash  the  goblet  from  the  knight's  hand, 
until  he  had  drank  half  its  poisoned  contents  !  This 
delaying  the  stroke  might  abate  the  knight's  anger, 
perhaps,  so  long  as  he  thought  the  cup  INNOCENT  ; 
but,  when  he  should  begin  to  realize  the  fate  into 
which  his  blind  appetite  had  led  him,  would  he  not 
execrate  the  culpable  timidity  of  the  bird  for  having 
hesitated  to  warn  him  ? ' ' 

And,  having  spoken  thus,  the  young  lady's  glance 
met  mine,  for  an  instant,  with  an  expression  I  well 
understood. 

"  You  argue  very  plausibly,  my  daughter,"  re 
turned  Mr.  Arlington,  evidently  disconcerted  by  her 
speech,  "  and  I  find  you  are  disposed  to  do  full  justice 
to  Brother  Chester's  legend ;  "  this  in  a  tone  slightly 
sarcastic,  as  it  seemed  to  me ;  "  but  we  must  remem 
ber  that  many  a  beautiful  theory  proves  itself  imprac 
ticable  when  we  attempt  to  realize  it." 

"Is  the  impracticability  necessarily  in  the  the 
ory  ?  "  inquired  his  daughter. 

"It  is  not  advisable  to  argue  that  point,  at  pres 
ent,"  he  returned,  with  the  slightest  possible  appear 
ance  of  being  vexed;  "  but  let  me  remind  you,  Lou 
isa,  of  a  single  fact,  which  proves  the  inutility  of  a 
9 


98  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

rigid  application  of  the  Gospel  to  the  faults  of  men, 
as  we  find  them  in  these  times." 

I  listened,  in  absolute  alarm,  for  the  evidence  which 
was  to  show  that  human  wilfulness  had,  at  last,  got 
the  upper  hand  in  the  management  of  this  universe, 
insomuch  that  God's  ministers  were  soberly  advised  to 
compromise  matters  with  the  spirit  of  evil. 

"You  remember,"  continued  Mr.  Arlington,  ad 
dressing  his  daughter,  "that  while  Brother  Stringent 
was  rending  our  parish  by  urging  his  reform  doc 
trines,  Mr.  Downy  was  filling  up  the  Plush-street 
Church  by  a  course  of  lectures  on  the  Depravity  and 
Doom  of  Babylon.  Never  were  heard  in  Bubbleton 
such  popular  discourses.  Everybody  praised  them. 
Even  those  whom  nobody  suspected  of  having  any 
interest  in  religion  commended  them  in  the  highest 
terms.  Mr.  Downy  was  complimented  in  various 
ways.  Old  Mr.  Sharkey,  who,  as  you  will  remem 
ber,  was  suspected  of  smuggling,  and  who  is  popularly 
supposed  to  be  quite  destitute  of  devout  feelings,  pre 
sented  the  preacher  with  a  superb  set  of  silver.  And 
Jacob  Bonus,  hard  as  he  is  said  to  use  his  tenants, 
presented  the  pastor's  wife  with  a  splendid  cloak  and 
set  of  furs.  Moreover,  the  parish  grew  so  compact 
and  popular,  that  the  income  of  the  Plush-street 
Church  was  enlarged  the  value  of  five  hundred  dollars. 
Thus,  while  our  minister  run  himself  out,  and  brought 
his  parish  into  reproach,  Mr.  Downy,  by  his  superior 
discretion  and  knowledge  of  his  people's  wants,  run  a 
successful  and  honorable  career,  and  extended  his  in- 


POLICY  AND   PBINCIPLE.  99 

fluence  even  to  those  not  commonly  reckoned  Chris 
tians." 

Miss  Arlington's  face  had  been  bent  over  her  book, 
during  this  statement.  At  its  conclusion,  she  raised 
it  for  an  instant,  exhibiting  a  look  of  most  indignant 
scorn,  and  then,  as  if  unwilling  to  trust  her  voice, 
bowed  her  head  over  the  page  in  silence. 

"Yet  I  am  told,"  pursued  Mr.  Arlington,  "that 
Mr.  Downy 's  discourses  were  calculated  to  exert  a 
powerful  influence  against  sin,  in  all  its  forms.  He  is 
said  to  have  denounced  the  wickedness  of  the  Baby 
lonians  in  terms  really  terrific ;  and  their  wicked 
ness,  as  everybody  knows,  includes  all  that  is  known 
at  the  present  day ;  so  that,  in  point  of  fact,  he  de 
nounced  the  sins  of  his  own  people,  while  assuming 
only  to  aim  at  those  of  the  ancients.  Young  Cyrus 
Thistleblow  says  that  the  impassioned  manner  with 
which  the  preacher  exposed  and  execrated  the  abomi 
nations  of  Babylon,  reminded  him  of  Macready,  in  his 
most  powerful  passages  :  and  he  gives  it  as  his  opin 
ion,  that  young  men  of  fashion  enjoy  a  lecture  at  the 
Plush-street  Church  nearly  as  well  as  they  do  a 
tragedy  at  the  Federal-street  Theatre.  The  compari 
son  shows  that  they  must  regard  the  lecture  as  a  very 
solemn  thing,  notwithstanding  it  does  not  drive  them 
from  the  church,  provoked  and  indignant  at  the  rude 
ness  of  the  preacher.  But  you  seem  uncommonly 
thoughtful,  Louisa;  and  you,  also,  Brother  Chester." 

"I  was  endeavoring  to  calculate,"  said  Miss  Ar 
lington,  "  how  many  centuries  must  elapse  after  the 


100  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

destruction  of  Bubbleton,  before  its  sins  would  become 
a  proper  subject  of  pulpit  censure  !  " 

As  for  myself,  I  thought  it  best  not  to  reveal  the 
subject  of  my  thought,  lest  it  might  be  deemed  rude. 
Such  a  revelation  of  opinion,  moreover,  was  not  to  be 
heard  every  day,  and  I  did  not  like  to  interrupt  it  by 
an  expression  of  disapproval  that  I  saw  would  be 
fruitless,  in  a  case  of  such  hardened  and  perverse 
worldliness. 

Mr.  Arlington  saw  the  wit  of  his  daughter's  ob 
servation,  and  was  proud  enough  of  that  to  pardon  the 
shock  it  gave  his  naked  sophistry.  He  continued, 
therefore,  with  incredible  serenity : 

"  You  see,  then,  how  strongly  a  man  may  denounce 
sin,  if  he  will  but  consult  prudence,  and  the  natural 
feelings  of  his  hearers.  Thus,  Brother  Chester,  you 
might  give  us  a  few  discourses  on  the  crimes  of  the 
Antediluvians,  or  the  apostasy  of  the  Jews,  or  the 
vices  and  scepticism  of  the  Athenians,  or  the  abomi 
nations  of  Corinth  and  Rome,  and  incidentally  de 
nounce  all  the  transgressions  forbidden  in  the  Deca 
logue,  which,  as  you  will  admit,  would  be  most  thor 
ough  moral  preaching.  I  have  little  doubt  that  a 
course  of  lectures  on  some  such  topic  would  prove 
immensely  popular,  as  they  would  gratify  a  certain 
historical  taste  and  antiquarian  curiosity  natural  to  a 
cultivated  people." 

"  And,  better  still,"  suggested  Miss  Arlington, 
"  they  would  gratify  a  certain  love  of  scandal,  which 


POLICY   AND   PRINCIPLE.  101 

is  natural,  I  am  afraid,  to  a^  large  proportion  of  our 
respectable  inhabitants  ! ' ' 

Then,  without  waiting  for  a  rejoinder,  the  daring 
girl  went  on : 

"I  have  been  reading  a  little  in  Christian  biogra 
phy,  lately,  father,  and  I  am  surprised  to  find  how 
different  a  course  all  the  eminent  Christian  preachers 
have  pursued  from  that  which  you  recommend.  They 
seem  to  have  been  brave,'  unyielding,  faithful  men,  to 
whom  the  favor  of  those  they  addressed  was  the  last 
thing  they  considered.  Indeed,  their  noble  charac 
ters  seem  to  have  been  formed,  in  a  great  degree,  by 
the  hardships  and  sufferings  to  which  the  loss  of  hu 
man  favor  subjected  them.  To  me,  they  seem  to  have 
acted  a  sublimely  consistent  part.  For,  if  religion  be 
anything  more  than  a  fas^jon,  it  must  be  the  first  and 
highest  of  things.  Its  ministers  are  the  ACTUAL  REP 
RESENTATIVES  OF  GOD,  whose  will  is  holy  and  un 
changeable  ;  and  how  can  they  yield  to  the  caprices 
of  any  people,  without  becoming  recreants  to  their 
Master  ]  For  my  part,  if  I  had  the  faith  to  which  so 
many  people  in  Bubbleton  lay  claim,  I  would  rather 
be  in  Mr.  Stringent' s  place,  among  enemies  nobly 
acquired,  than  in  Mr.  Downy's,  among  friends  bought 
at  the  price  of  conscience  !  " 

This  spirited  speech  confounded  Mr.  Arlington  as 
much  as  it  astonished  and  gratified  me.  The  eirl 

O  o 

looked  worthy  of  gracing  martyrdom,  with  her  strong 
words  and  flashing  glance ;  and  I  instantly  felt  an  ac- 
9* 


102  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

cession  of  strength,  in  the  consciousness  of  having  se 
cured  so  able  a  defender  of  the  course  I  meditated. 

' '  So  you  have  been  reading  Christian  biography  ? ' ' 
said  Mr.  Arlington,  speaking  with  deliberate  slow 
ness,  and  regarding  his  daughter  with  unequivocal 
amazement.  "  I  was  not  aware  that  your  taste  in 
clined  in  that  direction ;  but  I  must  confess  that  your 
researches  in  martyrology  have  imparted  to  your  man 
ners  something  of  that  disdainful  independence  you 
profess  to  admire  so  much  !  Pray,  what  self-devoted 
man  have  you  been  reading  about  last,  whose  spirit 
you  have  caught  thus  faithfully  ?  " 

"  A  very  unlovely  man,  indeed,  judged  from  your 
point  of  view,"  she  answered ;  "  it  is  the  blunt  Scotch 
Protestant,  John  Knox.  Would  you  like  to  hear  a 
remark  or  two  concerning  him?  " 

Mr.  Arlington  signified  a  willingness,  which  I  fear 
he  was  far  from  feeling ;  and  his  daughter  read  from 
the  memoir  the  following  pertinent  passages,  in  refer 
ence  to  Knox's  preaching  before  King  Edward's 
court : 

"  '  His  duty  as  a  preacher  he  supposed  to  consist 
not  in  delivering  homilies  against  sin  in  general,  but 
in  speaking  to  this  man  and  to  that  man,  to  kings  and 
queens,  and  dukes  and  earls,  of  their  own  sinful  acts 
as  they  sat  below  him ;  and  they  all  quailed  before 
him.  We  hear  much  of  his  power  in  the  pulpit,  and 
this  was  the  secret  of  it.  Never,  we  suppose,  before 
or  since,  have  the  ears  of  great  men  grown  so  hot  upon' 
them,  or  such  words  been  heard  in  the  courts  of 


POLICY   AND   PRINCIPLE.  103 

princes.  .  .  .  If  we  wish  to  find  the  best  account  of 
Edward's  ministers,  we  must  go  to  the  surviving  frag 
ments  of  Knox's  sermons  for  it,  which  were  preached 
in  their  presence. 

"  '  I  am  greatly  afraid  (he  said  once),  that  Ahito- 
phel  is  counsellor,  and  Shebnah  is  scribe,  controller 
and  treasurer. —  And  Ahitophel  and  Shebnah  were 
both  listening  to  his  judgment  of  them  :  the  first,  in 
the  person  of  the  then  omnipotent  Duke  of  Northum 
berland  ;  and  the  second,  in  that  of  Lord  Treasurer 
Paulet,  Marquis  of  Winchester. 

"  '  The  force  which  must  have  been  in  him  to  have 
carried  such  a  practice  through, —  he,  a  poor,  home 
less,  friendless  exile,  without  stay  or  strength  but 
what  was  in  his  own  heart, —  must  have  been  enor 
mous.  Nor  is  it  less  remarkable  that  the  men  whom 
he  so  roughly  handled  were  forced  to  bear  with  him. 
Indeed,  they  more  than  bore  with  him,  for  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland  proposed  to  make  him  Bishop  of 
Rochester,  and  had  an  interview  with  him  on  the  sub 
ject,  which,  however,  led  to  no  conclusion ;  the  duke 
having  to  complain  "  that  he  found  Mr.  Knox  neither 
grateful  nor  pleaseable,"  the  meaning  of  which  was, 
that  Knox,  knowing  that  he  was  a  bad,  hollow-heart 
ed  man,  had  very  uncourteously  told  him  so  ! ' : 

"  I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Arlington,  breaking  in  at  this 
place, —  his  habitual  politeness  hardly  concealing  his 
disgust, — "  I  hope  you  would  not  propose  such  a  man 
for  the  imitation  of  any  minister  in  Bubbleton.  Pray, 
do  you  find  any  more  admirable  thing  in  the  man 


104  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

than  this  rude  independence  and  his  trenchant  person 
alities?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  girl,  promptly;  "the  esti 
mate  he  forms  of  his  own  faithfulness  appears  to 
me  to  be  better  still.  After  daring  the  anger  of  the 
powerful  duke,  and  that  of  other  gentlemen  of  the 
court,  he  still  judges  himself  to  have  been  little  less 
than  a  coward.  Please  to  hear,  sir,  what  he  says  of 
himself,  in  this  particular  : 

"  '  This  day  my  conscience  accuseth  me  that  I  spoke 
>  not  so  plainly  as  my  duty  was  to  have  done ;  for  I 
ought  to  have  said  to  the  wicked  man,  expressly  by 
his  name,  thou  shalt  die  the  death ;  for  I  find  Jer 
emiah  the  prophet  to  have  done  so,  and  not  only 
he,  but  Elijah,  Elisha,  Micah,  Amos,  Daniel,  Jesus 
Christ  himself.  I  accuse  none  but  myself;  the  love 
that  I  did  bear  to  this  my  wretched  carcase,  was  the 
chief  cause  that  I  was  not  faithful  or  fervent  enough 
in  that  behalf.  I  had  no  will  to  provoke  the  hatred 
of  men.' '; 

Before  any  comment  could  be  made  on  this  subject, 
the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a 
visitor.  Under  a  variety  of  emotions,  I  saw  that  it 
was  none  other  than  Robert  Fiscal. 


XIII. 

MR.    FISCAL'S  WRONGS. 

THIS  unexpected  meeting  was  the  occasion  of  great 
embarrassment  to  Mr.  Fiscal,  and  of  great  pain  to  my 
self;  for  I  instantly  anticipated  a  very  considerable  addi-  < 
tion  to  the  previous  excitement  of  the  day  and  evening. 
The  gentleman  —  recovering  with  an  effort  from  the 
unpleasant  surprise  which  my  presence  occasioned  — 
bowed,  with  a  kind  of  buckram  politeness,  from  afar, 
but  did  not  belie  the  sincerity  of  his  dislike  by  offer 
ing  me  his  hand. 

In  truth,  he  took  very  little  pains  to  conceal  the 
fact  that  a  collision  had  taken  place  between  us ;  that 
he  was  laboring  under  a  sense  of  enormous  injury, 
and  that  he  no  longer  considered  me  that  paragon  of 
a  minister,  which,  in  his  late  enthusiasm  and  prema 
ture  friendship,  he  had  believed  me  to  be. 

I  wish  to  forestall,  in  this  place,  any  unfavorable 
judgment  my  readers  may  be  liable  to  form  of  my 
real  disposition  towards  this  man,  and  towards  other 
personages  in  this  little  history,  on  account  of  a  cer 
tain  playfulness  of  style  with  which  I  occasionally 
allude  to  them.  I  would  fain  trust  that  there  is 
nothing  of  bitterness  or  resentment,  or  other  unworthy 


106  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

feeling,  flowing  from  my  pen,  or  lingering  in  my 
heart,  as  I  recall  these  early  scenes  of  a  troubled 
ministry ;  and  if  any  character  appear  in  these  records, 
in  a  light  more  ludicrous  than  estimable,  or  more 
repelling  than  attractive,  it  is  only  because  —  portray 
ing  them  from  actual  life  —  I  think  I  ought  to  present 
them  to  others  precisely  as  they  presented  themselves 
to  me. 

The  appearance  of  Mr.  Fiscal,  and  his  distant  air 
and  constrained  behavior,  reminded  Mr.  Arlington  of 
the  remarkable  circumstance  of  his  absence  from 
church,  and  also  suggested  to  his  mind  the  obvious 
explanation  of  that  circumstance.  The  pause  that 
followed  the  reception  of  the  visitor,  whose  discon 
tented  brow  cast  a  shadow  quite  across  the  parlor,  was 
embarrassing  enough  to  challenge  the  resources  of 
even  a  cultivated  man,  like  Mr.  Arlington  ;  and  that 
gentleman  was  really  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed  in  the 
provoking  emergency.  An  unusual  thoughtfulness 
marked  his  benign  countenance. 

In  fact,  it  had  been  a  trying  day  to  him,  as  any 
one  may  see  by  recalling  to  mind  what  he  had  en 
dured.  In  the  morning,  the  sight  of  that  VACANT  PEW 
had,  for  some  reason,  raised  a  sensation  more  painful 
than  surprise.  In  the  afternoon,  the  tone  of  the 
preaching  had  become  alarming ;  all  the  sentences  in 
the  sermon  were  shaded  with  evil  omens,  and  the  per 
formance  had  ended  with  a  peroration  full  of  defiant 
zeal,  which,  in  a  young  man,  especially,  was  a  thing 
to  be  gravely  judged.  Then  the  mild  disapproval 


MR.    FISCAL'S   WRONGS.  107 

which  he  had  deemed  it  his  duty  to  express,  and  the 
soft  counsel  he  had  smilingly  administered  —  in  con 
sideration  of  the  preacher's  inexperience,  and  the 
weighty  precedent  of  the  Plush-street  policy  —  were 
attended  by  no  satisfactory  results.  On  the  contrary, 
the  contagious  mischief  had  infected  his  own  house 
hold,  and  he  had  been  doomed  to  hear  from  the  lips 
of  his  own  daughter,  sentiments  nearly  as  radical  and 
disorganizing  as  those  with  which  Mr.  Stringent  had 
provoked  his  enmity.  And  now,  to  cap  the  climax 
of  the  perversity  by  which  he  was  annoyed,  vMr.  Fis 
cal  and  I  must  meet,  face  to  face,  in  his  presence,  in 
a  manner  that  realized,  at  once,  the  distressing  conse 
quences  he  had  inwardly  foreboded. 

Politeness  is  sometimes  a  great  hindrance  to  prog 
ress.  It  proved  so  in  Mr.  Arlington's  case.  Had 
he  been  a  blunt,  plain-dealing  man,  he  might  have 
said  what  he  thought  of  me,  what  he  required  of  his 
daughter,  and  what  he  hoped  of  his  brother  church 
man,  and  so  have  delivered  his  mind  in  an  instant.  But, 
reined  in  by  so  many  checks  of  courtesy,  it  was  dif 
ficult  making  headway  at  all,  and  even  the  first  step 
was  attended  by  fearful  risks  to  the  thin  and  polished 
elegance  of  his  deportment. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  relate  in  detail 
what  passed  between  us,  after  the  Rubicon  of  hesita 
tion  had  been  actually  crossed.  How  Mr.  Fiscal  in 
dicated  his  sense  of  the  injury  I  had  done  him  by 
brief  ejaculations,  darted  through  a  cloud  of  brooding 
ill-nature, —  how  Mr.  Arlington  interposed  his  sooth- 


108  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

ing  presence  as  mediator,  palliating  the  oflence  by  the 
most  ingenious  suppositions,  and  trying  to  cool  the 
resentful  temper  of  his  friend  by  the  most  artful  ap 
peals  to  his  several  weaknesses, —  how  I  put  the  con 
victions  I  uttered  in  the  most  conciliatory  dress  consist 
ent  with  my  sense  of  duty,  and  still  felt  them  to  be 
offensive  to  those  I  addressed, —  how  Miss  Arlington 
bent  her  flushed  face  over  the  memoir  of  John  Knox, 
only  raising  her  head,  at  intervals,  for  a  quick  glance 
of  her  expressive  eyes  at  one  whose  observation  had 
particularly  interested  her  —  I  need  not  linger  to  de 
scribe  at  greater  length.  It  was  a  miserable,  and  very 
unprofitable,  conversation, —  eliciting  only  a  more 
intimate  knowledge  of  two  characters  with  which  I 
was  already  but  too  familiar. 

"  Forget  the  circumstance,  Brother  Fiscal,  and 
come  to  church  as  before.  Your  example  of  punc 
tuality  and  liberality  would  be  a  great  loss  to  us. 
We  can't  spare  such  a  man,  really.  I  trust  that 
Brother  Chester  will  not  feel  it  to  be  his  duty  to  re 
new  the  unpleasant  occasion  of  your  differences.  I 
dare  say  everything  will  be  arranged  harmoniously 
hereafter." 

Such,  in  substance,  was  Mr.  Arlington's  exhorta 
tion  —  repeated  many  times  in  the  course  of  that  inter 
view. 

Mr.  Fiscal's  uniform  answer  was,  "  I  fear  Mr. 
Chester's  views  and  mine  will  never  harmonize.  He 
persists  in  holding  an  exaggerated  idea  of  my  busi 
ness;  and  it  isn't  pleasant  haying  a  minister  who 


MB.  JISCAL'S  WRONGS.  109 

ranks  you  with  all  sorts  of  low  fellows  and  bloody- 
minded  scoundrels,  who  sell  their  souls  for  money. 
No  ;  I  begin  to  think  I  had  better  try  it  a  while  at  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Downy 's  church." 

To  this  I  replied,  that  I  regretted  having  so  deeply 
wounded  the  brother's  feelings,  by  what  I  regarded 
as  only  the  faithful  discharge  of  my  duty ;  but  that, 
while  I  really  desired  to  retain  Mr.  Fiscal  in  the  so 
ciety,  and  was  truly  grateful  for  the  kindness  he  had 
formerly  shown  me,  I  could  not  encourage  the  hope 
that  I  should  yield  a  grain  of  principle  to  retain  the 
favor  of  any  man  in  the  parish. 

Mr.  Arlington's  placid  face  drooped  into  a  sad 
revery. 

"  It 's  a  spirit  that  many  of  our  ministers  seem  to 
have  imbibed,"  said  Mr.  Fiscal,  "and  it's  going  to 
give  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  They  are  rending 
their  parishes,  everywhere,  by  mixing  themselves  with 
these  reforms.  What  it 's  all  coming  to,  I  'm  sure  I 
don't  know ;  but  I  'm  positive  that  there  are  some 
men  that  won't  stand  it." 

Mr.  Arlington  sighed  from  the  depth  of  his  revery. 

"  As  regards  your  parish,"  resumed  Mr.  Fiscal,  after 
a  reflective  pause,  and  appearing  to  direct  his  allusion 
to  some  very  remote  affair,  "  there  is  one  man  in  this 
neighborhood  who  exerts  a  mischievous  influence  over 
its  pastors  —  I  'm  certain  he  does  —  it  can't  be  other 
wise." 

"  You  mean,"  observed  Mr.  Arlington,  looking  up 
from  his  revery  — 

10      • 


110  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

"  I  mean  Oracular  Blunt." 

"A  man  of  very  preposterous  views  and  very  offens 
ive  manners." 

"He  is  a  clerical  bear,  if  there  ever  was  one," 
returned  Mr.  Fiscal,  "  and  he  delights  to  see  your 
parish  up  in  arms, —  he  enjoys  it.  The  man  envies 
you  the  harmony  that  has  lately  prevailed,  and  has 
left  no  means  untried  to  destroy  it,  I  dare  say." 

These  words,  and  the  significant  glance  with  which 
they  were  accompanied,  led  me  to  repel  the  implied 
charge  of  having  been  influenced  by  Mr.  Blunt  in  the 
course  I  had  pursued,  and  to  justify  my  eccentric 
friend  in  the  general  views  he  held  concerning  the 
ministerial  office.  But  Mr.  Fiscal  pursued  his  com 
plaint  : 

"  The  rudeness  of  the  man,"  said  he,  "passes  one's 
endurance.  It  was  only  last  week  that  I  chanced  to 
meet  him  in  the  Athengeum.  No  one  being  by,  he  asked 
me  how  we  were  prospering.  I  told  him,  very  well, 
and,  in  order  to  prove  it,  entered  into  particulars  a 
little.  He  heard  me,  with  a  scowling  sort  of  a  smile, 
and  when  I  had  finished,  he  said :  '  That 's  the  way 
to  serve  Almighty  God,  and  promote  the  Gospel, 
Brother  Fiscal.  Only  make  your  minister  think  that 
his  highest  duty  is  to  please  the  distinguished  saints, 
whom  your  penny-trumpets  have  summoned  within 
your  gates,  and  it  ;s  an  excellent  beginning  in  the 
growth  of  grace  !  After  all,  the  Christian  life  is  not 
so  tough  an  affair  as  we  used  to  suppose, — especially  in 
cities.  The  most  we  have  to  do  is  to  build  stately 


ME.    FISCAL'S   WRONGS.  Ill 

churches, — buy  the  conscience  of  some  clever  preacher, 
bolstering  up  his  tottering  manhood  with  downy  pil 
lows,  after  the  Plush-street  fashion,  and  ringing  gold 
in  his  ears  if  another  master  speaks  too  loud, —  con 
solidate  a  blessed  communion  of  hollow  proprieties, 
got  up  at  enterprising  shops,  learned  of  dancing- 
masters,  or  imported  out  of  the  purity  of  Paris, — 
learn  to  call  this  heterogeneous  hitching  together  of 
nameless  stupidities  a  RELIGIOUS  FELLOWSHIP,  a  SPIR 
ITUAL  UNION, — and  have  all  this  upholstery  preached 
to,  with  becoming  gravity,  as  though  it  were  an  assem 
blage  of  human  souls !  That,  I  think,  comprises 
nearly  everything  we  have  to  do  in  the  way  of  serving 
God,  in  these  happy,  labor-saving  days ! '  And, 
having  rattled  off  this  impertinent  nonsense,"  con 
cluded  Mr.  Fiscal,  ' '  he  struck  his  cane  heavily  upon 
the  floor,  and,  with  a  bundle  of  books  under  his  arm, 
marched  off  like  a  grenadier." 

This  reminiscence  affected  me  rather  more  pleas 
antly  than  it  did  Mr.  Fiscal,  and  I  saw  that  Miss 
Arlington  enjoyed  it  keenly.  As  the  conversation 
was  now  diverted  from  the  main  source  of  Mr.  Fiscal' s 
grievance,  and  as  it  had  become  quite  late,  and  as, 
moreover,  no  good  was  likely  to  come  by  protracting 
the  interview,  I  took  my  leave,  and  went  home  to  a 
sleepless  pillow. 


XIV. 

ORACULAR  BLUNT  AT  HOME. 

THE  next  morning,  feeling  the  need  of  advice,  and 
my  mind  inclining  to  despondency,  I  thought  I  would 

ride  over  to  D ,  and  return  Brother  Oracular 

Blunt's  friendly  call.  At  the  depot,  while  waiting 
for  the  train,  I  observed  Mr.  Wilkins,  Mr.  Gleason, 
and  Mr.  Fiscal,  in  earnest  conversation.  From  the 
excited  manner  of  the  latter  gentleman,  I  straightway 
concluded  that  I  must  be  the  subject  of  the  animated 
conference ;  and  the  surmise  was  confirmed  presently, 
by  a  certain  air  of  constraint  and  coolness  with  which 
they  all  recognized  me. 

When  the  train  came  up,  Mr.  Gleason  stepped  into 
the  car  immediately  behind  me,  but  finding  an  old  ac 
quaintance,  as  it  seemed,  in  the  person  of  a  large 
factory  owner,  he  confined  his  company  to  him,  with 
out  giving  me  so  much  as  a  glance. 

Thus  I  rode,  silent  and  contemplative,  until  the 
conductor,  crying  with  an  intonation  quite  peculiar  to 
that  class  of  intelligence  officers,  as  though  his  voice 

were  a  part  of  the  wind,  announced  "  D Centre," 

and  there  I  got  out. 


ORACULAR    BLUNT   AT   HOME.  113 

Mr.  Oracular  Blunt's  dwelling  being  pointed  out 
to  me,  I  found  it  to  be  a  curious  little  Gothic  house, 
with  a  strange  number  of  steep  gables,  perched  on  the 
top  of  a  hill.  Its  front  was  approached  by  a  long 
flight  of  steps,  and  a  garden  of  some  pretensions  was 
partly  visible  in  the  rear. 

A  plump,  rosy-cheeked  little  girl,  with  a  very  fat 
baby  on  her  shoulder,  admitted  me  into  the  minister's 
house,  and,  taking  me  to  the  top  of  the  giddy  perch, 
showed  me  to  my  eccentric  friend,  as  he  sat  in  one  of 
the  snuggest  and  airiest  of  studies  imaginable.  He 
received  me  with  a  straightforward  cordiality  and 
unpretending  pleasure,  at  once  very  becoming  to  him 
and  gratifying  to  myself. 

After  we  had  conversed  a  few  minutes,  he  re 
marked —  laying  his  hand  upon  a  small  and  antiquated 
looking  volume : 

' '  I  have  been  reading,  for  the  third  time,  old  John 
Berridge's  caustic  little  book  — '  THE  CHRISTIAN 
WORLD  UNMASKED.'  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
taking  it,  in  small  doses,  for  years,  whenever  I  feel 
myself  growing  epicurean.  —  It 's  a  capital  antidote 
for  that  complaint,  I  assure  you.  Not  altogether  a 
pure  medicine,  I  grant ;  for  Berridge  lived  more  than 
forty  years  ago,  you  know,  and  was  associated  with 
that  renowned  communion  of  quacks,  the  doctors  of 
the  Church  of  England.  He  teaches  many  things  in 
his  book  which  Christians  are  now  beginning  to  reject 
as  heathenish ;  but  the  moral  earnestness  of  the  book, 
and  its  critical  analysis  of  all  the  shams  and  subter- 
10* 


114  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

fuges  wherein  we  try  to  shelter  ourselves  from  the 
pursuit  of  duty,  are  masterly  and  perennial.  Every 
word  has  a  most  felicitous  fitness ;  every  sentence, 
like  the  claymore  of  the  mighty  Scot,  mows  down  a  host 
of  enemies ;  and  every  truth  pressed  home  to  the 
shrinking  heart,  contrives  to  burrow  there,  and  won't 
move  out.  But  very  likely  you  have  read  the  book, 
yourself,  Brother  Chester." 

I  acknowledged  that  I  had  not,  and  that  I  knew 
but  very  little  of  its  author,  beyond  the  fact  of  his 
having  been  an  eccentric,  but  very  sincere  and  effi 
cient,  preacher,  in  some  of  the  rural  districts  of  Eng 
land.  Mr.  Blunt  took  up  the  volume,  with  an  air  of 
delightful,  almost  tender,  interest. 

"  A  single  anecdote,"  said  he,  "  told  in  John 
Berridge's  own  words,  will  give  you  a  picture  of  the 
man.  Shall  I  read  it  ?" 

I  of  course  begged  that  he  would.  So,  running  his 
eye  down  the  smoky  page,  Mr.  Blunt  read,  with  live 
ly  satisfaction,  the  following  fragment  of  autobiog 
raphy: 

"  '  Soon  after  I  began  to  preach  the  Gospel  at 
Everton  —  says  Mr.  Berridge  —  the  churches  in  the 
neighborhood  were  deserted,  and  mine  so  overcrowded 
that  the  squire,  who  "did  not  like  strangers,  and  hated 
to  be  incommoded,"  joined  with  the  offended  parsons, 
and  soon  after,  a  complaint  having  been  made  against 
me,  I  was  summoned  before  the  bishop.' 

"  Think  of  that,  now  !  "  cried  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt, 
suddenly  interrupting  his  own  reading ;  "  here  is  one 


ORACULAR  BLUNT  AT  HOME.       115 

live  man,  among  some  scores  of  transcendently  wooden 
fellows,  who  has  the  will  and  knack  to  preach  the 
Gospel  so  as  to  be  intelligible  and  interesting.  And 
here  are  some  hundreds  of  famishing  souls,  grown  very 
lean  upon  their  hard  fare  (the  academical  sort  of 
preaching  which  the  wooden  gentlemen  deal  in),  scam 
pering  away  from  these  miserable  stalls  to  hear  John 
Berridge,  whose  words  are  spirit  and  life.  Now, 
natural  as  all  this  seems,  it  proves  to  be  an  offence. 
There  is  the  high  and  mighty  squire — a  broad-shoul 
dered,  apoplectic,  surly  fellow,  I  daresay  — whose  gouty 
feet  are  not  to  be  encroached  upon  by  strangers,  even 
though  they  are  striving  to  save  their  souls  !  Then, 
there  are  the  wooden  ministers  in  their  empty  churches, 
who  are  unspeakably  resentful  because  their  people 
have  gone  to  look  up  the  key  of  salvation,  instead  of 
listening  to  their  academical  twang.  —  Well,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  upshot  of  the  matter  is,  the  live  man 
goes  before  the  bishop." 

And  having  thus  ended  his  indignant  commentary, 
at  which  I  could  not  help  laughing  a  little,  Mr.  Blunt 
resumed  his  reading : 

"  '  "  Well,  Berridge,"  said  his  lordship,  "did  I  in 
stitute  you  to  Eaton  or  Patton?  Why  do  you  go 
preaching  out  of  your  own  parish  ?  " 

"  '  "  My  lord,"  said  I,  "  I  make  no  claim  to  the 
livings  of  those  parishes.  ;T  is  true,  I  was  once  at 
Eaton,  and,  finding  a  few  poor  people  assembled,  I 
admonished  them  to  repent  of  their  sins,  and  to  believe 
in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  the  salvation  of  their 


116  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

souls.  At  that  very  moment,  my  lord,  there  were' 
five  or  six  clergymen  out  of  their  own  parishes,  and 
enjoying  themselves  on  the  Eaton  knv  ling-green." 

"  '  "  I  tell  you,"  retorted  his  lordship,  "  that  if  you 
continue  preaching  where  you  have  no  right,  you  will 
very  likely  be  sent  to  Huntington  jail." 

"  '  "I  have  no  more  regard,  my  lord,  for  a  jail  than 
other  folks,"  rejoined  I ;  "  but  I  had  rather  go  there 
with  a  good  conscience,  than  be  at  liberty  without  one." 

"  '  His  lordship  looked  very  hard  at  me.  "  Poor 
fellow  !  "  said  he,  "  you  are  beside  yourself,  and  in  a 
few  months  you  will  either  be  better  or  worse."  '  •  Then, 
my  lord,"  said  I,  "  you  may  make  yourself  quite  happy 
in  this  business ;  for,  if  I  should  be  better,  you  sup 
pose  I  shall  desist  of  my  own  accord ;  and  if  worse, 
you  need  not  send  me  to  Huntington  jail,  for  I  shall 
be  better  accommodated  in  Bedlam." 

' '  '  His  lordship  then  pathetically  entreated  me.  as 
one  who  had  been  and  wished  to  continue  my  friend, 
not  to  embitter  the  remaining  portion  of  his  days  by 
any  squabbles  with  my  brother  clergymen,  but  to  go 
home  to  my  parish,  and  so  long  as  I  kept  within  it  I 
should  be  at  liberty  to  do  what  I  liked  there. 

"  '  "As  to  your  conscience,"  said  his  lordship,  "you 
know  that  preaching  out  of  your  parish  is  contrary  to 
the  canons  of  the  church." 

"  '  "  There  is  one  canon,  my  lord."  said  I,  "  which 
I  dare  not  disobey,  and  that  says,  Go  preach  the  Gospel 
to  every  creature."  '  " 


XY. 

ORACULAR  BLUNT'S  VIEWS  OF  BUBBLETON. 


"  THAT  was  the  right  sort  of  a  man,"  cried  Mr. 
Oracular  Blunt,  exultingly,  as  he  finished  the  anec 
dote  and  laid  down  the  book, — "  the  right  sort  of  a 
man  to  confront  broad-shouldered  squires,  and  wooden- 
headed  clergymen,  and  epicurean  bishops,  and  other 
eminent  representatives  of  the  English  church  estab 
lishment.  As  every  great  arid  sincere  man  may,  he 
sustained  himself  victoriously, —  Lord  Chatham,  him 
self,  coming  from  the  helm  of  the  nation  to  shield  him 
from  the  wooden-headed  league,  and  a  greater  Lord 
than  he  dwelling  with  him,  invisible. 

"  Sometimes,"  continued  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt, 
growing  more  and  more  earnest,  "  when  I  take  ac 
count  of  the  stock  of  worldliness  to  be  found  in  some 
of  our  parishes  —  suppose  I  say  in  all  of  them, —  I 
find  myself  praying  for  some  such  an  incarnation 
among  us  —  for  somebody  who  dares  to  take  our  pride 
by  the  horns,  to  pull  the  nose  of  our  self-conceit,  and, 
in  a  general  way,  to  wake  up  our  drowsy  spirits  to 
some  little  consciousness  of  the  Almighty  Presence 


118  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

that  is  about  us,  and  of  the  immortal  destiny  that  lies 
beyond  us !  " 

Delivering  his  mind  thus,  in  a  manner  as  interest 
ing  as  it  was  vehement,  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt  suddenly 
changed  the  subject,  and  said  he  would  like  to  know 
how  the  missionaries  in  Burmah  and  Bubbleton  got 
along  with  their  labors. 

"  I  can't  answer  for  Burmah,"  returned  I,  laugh 
ing  at  the  dubious  association,  "  but  I  fear  the  mis 
sionaries  in  Bubbleton  are  not  doing  much." 

"  A  pretty  obstinate  state  of  heathenism  there,  I 
suppose?  " 

"  Quite  so,  as  it  appears  to  me." 

"A  pretty  strong  attachment  to  idolatry,  I  dare 


say 


1  " 


"  Yes." 

"  Ah,  I  don't  know  but  Mr.  Judson  has  the  best 
field,  after  all.  I  doubt  if  there  be  as  much  spiritual 
lunacy  in  all  India  as  in  this  compact  little  common 
wealth  !  Did  it  never  strike  you,  as  perfectly  amaz 
ing,  with  how  much  more  deference  the  Eastern  hea 
thens  treat  their  gods  than  those  of  Massachusetts  do 
their  nominal  divinity?  Truly,  we  have  need  that 
the  other  race  of  idolaters  take  compassion  on  us,  and 
come  and  teach  us  devotion  and  self-denial  !  I  'm 
very  glad  the  Burmans  don't  know  how  destitute  we 
are  of  these  qualities,  or  they  might  turn  the  tables 
upon  us,  some  day,  after  a  very  humiliating  fashion ! 
Has  the  persecution  begun  again  at  your  station  ?  By 
my  soul,  I  should  judge  by  your  looks  that  it  had ;  for 


BLUNT' s  VIEWS  OF  BUBBLETON.          119 

you  are  two  years  older,  at  least,  than  when  I  saw 
you  first." 

I  told  him  what  had  transpired  since  his  visit  — 
what  seemed  to  be  the  tendency  of  things, — what 
I  had  thought  and  what  I  purposed, —  and  then  re 
quested  his  advice. 

My  recital  did  not  apparently  surprise  him ;  but 
he  considered  it  very  deliberately,  and  with  the  ut 
most  seriousness,  and  then  told  me  what  course  he 
thought  it  best  for  me  to  pursue. 

"  You  have  now,  I  should  suppose,"  he  remarked, 
<:  given  the  parish  to  understand  what  you  think  of 
your  mutual  responsibilities.  You  have  spoken  to 
them  plainly  on  this  point.  This  is  sufficient  for  the 
present.  The  people  are  all  more  or  less  surprised, 
and  some  of  them  are  irritated.  I  would  recommend 
you  to  be  gentle,  though  firm,  with  them.  I  would 
not  press  the  irritating  point  just  now,  for  that  would 
only  aggravate  the  antagonism  between  you.  Leave 
what  you  have  said  to  act  upon  their  hearts,  under 
the  mildest  influences  you  can  cast  upon  them.  It  is 
sunshine,  not  hail-storms  nor  lightnings,  that  vitalizes 
things, —  though  the  ruder  elements  have  their  func 
tions  too.  After  the  storm,  then  give  them  the  mild 
shining  of  the  sun.  Perhaps  some  of  the  truths  you 
have  spoken  may  be  quickened  in  their  hearts.  At 
all  events,  you  will  have  convinced  them,  if  their 
lunacy  be  not  utterly  incurable,  that  you  do  not  deal 
in  hail  and  lightning  out  of  love  of  those  things,  but 
for  an  ulterior  end  that  cannot  be  reached  by  other 
means." 


120  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

Mr.  Oracular  Blunt  said  much  more,  that  I  felt  to 
be  equally  wise,  and  for  which  I  was  equally  grateful. 

As  we  sat  counselling  thus,  the  same  plump  little 
girl,  with  the  same  fat  little  baby  on  her  shoulder, 
came  up  and  informed  us  that  dinner  was  ready.  So  we 
put  Burmah  and  Bubbleton  off  our  minds,  and,  Mr. 
Blunt  setting  the  baby  on  his  shoulder,  like  a  plaster- 
paris  image,  we  all  went  below.  I  found  Mrs.  Blunt 
to  be  a  hearty,  rosy,  good-looking  lady,  cordial  and 
easy  in  her  manners,  and  considerably  younger  than 
her  husband.  The  two  children  I  have  mentioned 
comprised  all  the  family,  and  it  seemed  to  be  a  very 
pleasant  one. 

During  the  meal,  Mr.  Blunt  dilated,  in  his  pictur 
esque  phraseology,  on  the  advantages  of  his  lofty 
perch,  pointing  triumphantly  to  Mrs.  B.  and  the 
children,  as  demonstrations  of  the  salubrity  of  the 
spot. 

Altogether,  it  proved  a  very  exhilarating  visit,  and 
I  returned  to  Bubbleton  in  the  evening,  strengthened 
for  the  unknown  experiences  that  lay  before  me. 


XYI. 

A   TRAGEDY   OF  INTEMPERANCE. 

AFTER  the  incidents  last  described,  I  passed  several 
days  in  a  kind  of  suspense  not  unlike  that  which  an 
innocent  man  experiences,  when  on  trial  for  his  life, 
during  the  period  which  elapses  between  the  charge 
of  the  judge  and  the  agreement  of  the  jury.  I  felt 
that  the  worldly-wise  men  of  Bubbleton  were  making 
up  their  verdict,  and  that  the  sword  that  would  cut 
my  pastoral  existence  asunder  was  suspended  by  a 
single  hair. 

Never,  probably,  did  a  minister  hold  his  charge  by 
a  more  precarious  tenure.  I  knew  the  sensitiveness  of 
the  parish  —  I  knew  its  fastidious  tastes,  and  its  admir 
able  proficiency  in  the  ecclesiastical  science  of  noncon 
formity.  I  knew  it  hesitated  no  more  in  sacrificing  a 
minister  to  its  caprices,  than  does  a  Baltimore  Conven 
tion  in  immolating  a  demagogue  at  the  shrine  of  Avail 
ability. 

As  yet,  no  committee  had  appeared  to  expostulate 
with  me  upon  my  rashness,  nor  had  I  received  any 
threat  of  expulsion  from  any  quarter ;  but  there  was 
11 


122  BUBBLETON   PAKISH. 

evidently  a  sensation  in  the  parish  of  which  I  was  the 
occasion,  and  which  promised  little  peace  or  secirrity  for 
the  future.  Under  these  circumstances,  I  composed  my 
mind  as  well  as  I  could  for  study,  and  AY  rote  a  sermon 
from  the  text —  "With  patience  possess  ye  your  soul's." 

The  next  Sunday,  the  congregations  were  unusually 
large,  and  it  appeared  —  from  a  certain  tip-toe  look  of 
expectation  in  the  people  —  that  a  motive  not  strictly 
devotional  had  assembled  them  in  such  liberal  num 
bers.  To  my  surprise,  I  noticed  Mr.  Peppery  among 
them  in  the  afternoon,  and,  unless  my  perception  de 
ceived  me,  the  little  reformer  regarded  me  throughout 
the  discourse  with  a  look  of  heartfelt  sympathy.  I 
am  confirmed  in  this  impression  by  Avhat  followed, 
for,  at  the  close  of  the  service,  he  Avaited  for  me  in 
the  aisle,  and,  giving  my  hand  a  cordial  gripe,  said,  in 
a  thrilling,  Avaspish  whisper  —  "  So  persecuted  they 
the  Prophets.  Endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier 
of  Jesus  Christ."  -  Then,  hurrying  out  of  the  church, 
as  if  pursued  by  "  the  overflowing  scourge,"  the  fiery 
little  man  disappeared  in  the  crowd ;  and  such  was 
the  effect  of  his  solemn  words  and  tragic  air,  that  I 
felt  myself,  at  the  time,  almost  a  martyr. 

As  for  Mr.  Fiscal,  I  heard  of  him  that  day  as 
being  at  the  Plush-street  Church ;  though,  as  it  sub 
sequently  appeared,  he  did  not  then  engage  seats  in 
that  favored  sanctuary,  but  only  signified  to  the  parish 
what  course  he  was  likely  to  pursue  in  case  it  should 
"  sustain  " — to  borrow  a  phrase  from  the  politicians 
—  "the  present  administration."  This  gentleman's 


A    TRAGEDY    OF    INTEMPERANCE.  123 

attachment  to  the  parish  was  such  that  he  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  abandon  it,  without  first  point 
ing  out,  in  very  distinct  and  emphatic  terms,  the 
dangers  it  must  incur  under  the  charge  of  so  "  rash 
and  inexperienced  a  pastor ; ' '  and  he  failed  not  to 
exert  his  utmost  influence  towards  averting,  by  sum 
mary  measures,  the  unhappy  results  he  foreboded. 
But  the  various  methods  by  which  his  zeal  mani 
fested  itself,  were  not  made  known  to  me  until  a  later 
period. 

Those  prominent  members  of  the  society  —  Mr. 
Wilkins,  Mr.  Harris,  and  Mr.  Gleason  —  did  not 
find  it  convenient  to  wait  for  me,  that  day,  in  the 
porch  of  the  church,  as  was  their  custom  —  in  conse 
quence,  I  suppose,  of  having  no  congratulations  to 
express,  and  being  occupied  with  considerations  of  no 
very  pleasant  nature. 

Mr.  Arlington,  however,  gave  me  his  hand,  with 
his  old  benign  manner, —  evidently  grateful  that  the 
services  had  been  finished  without  any  belligerent 
demonstration  on  my  part.  He  alluded  to  Mr.  Pep 
pery  being  at  church  in  a  tone  of  some  surprise,  fol 
lowed  by  a  soft,  prophetic  sigh,  that  recalled  a  remark 
he  had  made  on  a  former  occasion :  which  was  to  the 
effect,  that  a  preacher  who  should  please  the  parish 
would  not  please  Mr.  Peppery. 

As  regards  Miss  Arlington  (I  cannot  help  allud 
ing  to  her  here,  in  view  of  what  followed),  she  seemed 
to  have  subsided  into  her  former  indifference,  inso 
much  that  it  was  difficult  to  believe  her  the  same  per- 


124  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

son  whose  interest  had  been  so  strongly  enlisted,  only 
the  previous  week.  I  little  suspected  the  struggle 
that  was  transpiring  in  this  young  woman's  mind,  or 
how  profound  and  painful  had  been  her  experience  of 
the  ills,  and  doubts,  and  aspirations,  of  which  noble 
natures  are  susceptible,  when  environed  by  unconge 
nial  circumstances. 

I  went  homeward,  quite  weary  and  disheartened. 

Mr.  Fiscal' s  beautiful  present  remained  still  in  the 
study,  tantalizing  me  with  the  most  miserable  sugges 
tions.  As  I  did  not  wish  to  retain  it,  considering  our 
altered  relations,  and  as  I  feared  that  I  might  yet 
further  exasperate  him  by  returning  it,  I  was  per 
plexed  in  trying  to  decide  what  I  ought  to  do  with  it. 

The  evening  set  in,  cold  and  stormy.  It  was  about 
the  last  of  December.  The  wind  became  high,  and 
moaned  hoarsely  through  the  streets,  driving  the 
frozen  rain  before  it,  and  sweeping  the  nerves  with  an 
irritating  sense  of  discomfort.  There  was  an  influ 
ence  in  the  night,  which,  added  to  the  solitude  of  my 
room,  would  have  been  depressing  enough  to  the  spir 
its,  at  any  time ;  —  in  my  present  frame  of  mind  it 
was  overwhelming.  I  paced  my  narrow  room  with  an 
aching  head  and  a  desponding  heart.  Very  gloomy 
and  forbidding  was  the  scenery  my  fancy  contem 
plated,  and  neither  memory  nor  hope  aflbrded  me 
much  relief. 

Suddenly  I  said  to  myself,  "  This  will  never  do. 
You  are  growing  effeminate.  Where  is  your  cour 
age  1  Where  is  your  faith  1  Come,  have  done  with 


A   TRAGEDY    OF  INTEMPERANCE.  125 

your  cowardly  despondency.  Rouse  your  latent  man 
hood.  What  would  you  have  ?  What  did  you  antic 
ipate,  when  you  promised  to  serve  God  against  human 
selfishness  and  caprice  ?  Did  you  not  enlist  for  this 
war  with  some  idea  of  the  hardships  it  must  involve  ? 
Out  upon  your  murmuring  !  Leave  that  to  those 
who  profess  no  faith  and  no  high  resolves.  You  are 
a  minister  of  God.  Your  strength  and  recompense 
come  from  Him.  Do  your  duty  conscientiously, 
cheerfully, —  He  is  security  for  the  RESULT." 

With  reviving  confidence,  I  sat  down,  and  began  to 
read  the  Psalms  —  those  wonderful  lyrics  that  have 
an  adaptation,  thousand-fold,  to  the  wants  and  pos 
tures  of  the  human  soul.  I  needed  the  faith  anjl 
composure  which  those  deep  utterances  of  experience 
impart,  for  a  night  of  agitation  and  responsibility  yet 
awaited  me. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock,  as  nearly  as  I  can  remem 
ber,  when  I  was  startled  from  a  revery  by  a  heavy 
knock  at  the  door  of  my  study. 

The  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  the  inclemency  of  the 
night,  convinced  me  at  once  that  it  must  be  an  urgent 
summons  from  some  family  in  affliction ;  but  I  was 
scarcely  prepared  for  the  surprise  I  experienced, 
when,  on  opening  the  door,  I  beheld  the  stalwart  form 
of  the  blacksmith,  Harry  Hanson. 

He  held  his  cap  in  his  hand,  and  his  uncovered 
brow  revealed  beads  of  sweat,  that  trickled  down  upon 
his  ample  chest,  and  mingled  with  the  sleet  that  was 
melting  from  his  clothes  and  hair.  The  excitement 


126  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

of  his  errand  shone  in  the  working  of  his  countenance, 
and  in  the  unsteady  tones  of  his  voice. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  Bill  Gorman's  as 
quick  as  you  can,"  cried  he  ;  "if  you  can  speak  any 
comfort  to  the  wretched,  God  knows  it  is  needed 
there.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  who  Bill  Gorman  is  ? 
Well,  he  's  a  miserable  vagabond  of  a  drunkard,  who 
has  wasted  his  living,  and  abused  his  family,  this 
twenty  years.  But  it 's  nearly  over.  Good  Lord ! 
what  a  night  this  has  been  !  Are  you  going  1 " 

I  threw  on  my  cloak,  pressed  my  hat  close  over 
my  brow  —  for  the  wind  was  driving  at  a  high  rate 
—  took  my  umbrella  in  hand,  and  told  him  I  was 
re^ady. 

II  Thank  you,"  said  the  blacksmith,  "there's  not 
a  minute  to  lose.     I  began  to  think  there  wasn't  a 
minister  in  Bubbleton  who  would  go  on  this  business. 
I  applied  to  four  of  them  before  I  sought  you.     The 
Plush-street  minister  is  nearest,  but  he  framed  more 
excuses  than  there  are  propositions  in  a  Calvinistic 
sermon.     Well,  it 's  no  pleasant  service,  to  be  sure, 
considering  what  a  man  Bill  Gorman  has  been.     And 
such  a  night !     Your  umbrella  will  be  sucked  into 
the  clouds,  in  no  time." 

We  passed  out.  The  storm  was  formidable,  in 
deed. 

"  Here,  you  hold  firm  to  my  arm,"  said  the  black 
smith,  "  and  we  shall  weather  the  gale  at  last.  I  had 
a  carriage  out  until  half  an  hour  since,  when  the 


A   TRAGEDY    OF   INTEMPERANCE.  127 

driver  was  unlucky  enough  to  smash  a  wheel.  How 
ever,  we  are  making  progress." 

As  we  pursued  our  way  through  the  dark,  tempest 
uous  streets,  Harry  Hanson  informed  me  of  the  na 
ture  of  the  calamity,  in  view  of  which  I  was  expected 
to  offer  religious  consolation. 

"  This  Bill  Gorman,"  said  he,  "  being  always  quar 
relsome  when  in  liquor,  got  into  a  fight  this  evening, 
and  was  brought  home,  stabbed,  about  an  hour  since  ! 
My  God  !  what  a  scene  it  was  !  But  we  must  hurry, 
—  he  can't  stand  it  long ;  and  it  may  do  him  some 
good,  and  be  a  consolation  to  his  poor  family,  to  have 
you  see  him  before  he  goes.  Good  Lord  !  he  is  sober 
enough  now,  I  promise  you  !  " 

Although  I  had  anticipated  some  such  tragical  rev 
elation,  on  account  of  the  blacksmith's  great  excite 
ment  and  haste,  the  statement  shocked  me  to  a  degree 
that  I  cannot  describe. 

"Where  did  this  horrible  scene  occur?"  I  asked, 
with  suspended  breath,  and  dreading  a  response  that 
should  confirm  my  fears. 

"It  was  in  one  of  those  rum-dens  on  Brewer- 
street,"  he  answered,  to  my  great  relief;  though,  after 
subsequent  reflection,  I  saw  the  utter  improbability 
of  the  supposition  that  Mr.  Fiscal  would  so  far  com 
promise  his  respectability,  as  to  open  his  store  upon  a 
Sunday  evening.  "Poor  Gorman  has  usually  fre 
quented  more  respectable  places,"  continued  Harry 
Hanson ;  "  but  such  being  closed  against  him,  of  late, 
and  the  love  of  drink  being  so  mighty  strong  in  the 


128  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

man,  he  formed  the  habit  of  visiting  them  abominable 
cellars,  where  the  lowest  drunkards  have  their  revels ; 
and  this  horrible,  horrible  tragedy  is  the  upshot  of  the 
business !  Lord !  I'm  glad  my  anvil  an't  a  rum- 
cask,  Mr.  Chester  ! " 

"Well  may  you  be  glad,  my  friend,"  said  I; 
"cursed  is  the  gain  that  comes  through  such  a  traffic. 
Is  this  the  place?" 

"This  is  the  place.  What  but  a  murder  would 
bring  people  out,  such  a  night  ?  See,  the  house  is 
thronged  !  Hark  !  don't  you  hear  them  groans  from 
him,  and  the  cries  and  sobs  of  the  others  —  poor 
wife  !  —  poor  innocent  child  !  Lord  !  I  can't  go  in — 
I  can't  stand  the  sight,  Mr.  Chester.  I  'm  a  woman, 
when  such  things  are  going  on  ! " 

The  blacksmith  said  all  this  in  a  rapid  undertone, 
as  we  approached  the  door  of  the  wretched  house, — 
brushing  his  great  sleeves  across  his  eyes,  frequently, 
as  he  spoke ;  and  revealing,  in  the  tremulousness  of 
his  voice,  the  power  of  his  emotion,  and  the  gentle 
ness  that  possessed  his  gigantic  frame. 

I  do  not  propose  to  dwell  upon  the  awful  scene  that 
awaited  me,  in  that  hapless  home,  so  long  dishonored 
by  evil  passions  —  so  suddenly  invested  with  a  tragic 
interest.  The  chief  figures  in  the  picture  stand  viv 
idly  before  me  still,  but  I  never  contemplate  them 
without  a  sensation  of  painful  sadness. 

I  see  the  wreck  of  a  man  lying  upon  a  miserable 
bed,  pale  and  ghastly,  writhing  in  the  consciousness 
of  an  ill-spent  life  and  of  an  inexorable  death,  and  al- 


OORMON'S  DEATH  BED. 


A   TRAGEDY   OF  INTEMPERANCE.  129 

ternately  crying  to  God  for  mercy,  and  beseeching  the 
dependent  ones  he  had  wronged  for  their  forgiveness. 
I  see  the  wife  and  child  in  their  indescribable  distress. 
I  see  an  old  man  standing  near  the  bed-side,  holding 
one  of  the  inebriate's  hands,  and  murmuring,  with 
many  tears,  a  simple  prayer.  He  calls  to  mind  the 
early  promise  of  an  ambitious  youth,  and  the  happy 
bridal  of  the  Providence  belle ;  and  the  charity  of 
friendship  murmurs  in  his  broken  accents,  when  he 
says, — "Ah.  a  better,  nor  a  kinder,  man,  did  not 
live  than  he ;  poor  Billy !  it  was  drink  that  did  it 
all." 

I  see, -in  the  back-ground  of  the  picture,  a  mass  of 
eager  and  agitated  faces  —  now  scanning  the  group  by 
the  bed-side  —  now  exchanging  observations  in  muffled 
whispers  —  and  the  dim  lamp-light  playing  over  all, 
with  startling  and  ominous  effect. 

Why  should  I  dwell  upon  my  experience  of  that 
scene,  or  try  to  record  the  service  I  sought  to  render 
those  broken  and  despairing  hearts  1  Or  need  I  say 
that  the  burden  of  woe  that  smote  my  ears  that  night, 
as  it  went  up  to  heaven  from  that  stricken  household, 
has  sounded  in  my  spirit  through  all  these  years,  as  a 
sacred  charge,  to  employ  the  authority  of  my  office 
and  all  the  terrors  of  truth,  against  that  monster- vice 
of  society  —  intemperance  ? 

*          ****** 

It  was  long  after  the  midnight  hour  had  sounded, 
that  I  turned  my  feet  from  that  sad  threshold,  and 
took  my  homeward  way  through  the  silent  streets. 


130  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

The  storm  had  passed.  The  stars  shone  over  the 
quiet  town  —  an  eternal  prophecy  of  peace,  as  then 
they  seemed. 

And  I,  with  more  faith  and  strength  for  all  that  I 
had  imparted,  sought  the  solitude  of  my  chamber, 
and  enjoyed  the  untroubled  sleep  that  sanctifies  faith 
ful  labor. 

*          ****** 

The  next  day  I  said  to  myself:  "  Now  it  is  Mon 
day,  and  you  must  beware  of  getting  effeminate. 
Nothing  is  so  good  for  the  spirits  as  constant  employ 
ment, —  so  keep  yourself  stirring. —  If  you  would 
keep  your  head  above  all  the  Bubbleton  freshets,  you 
must  be  active,  vigilant,  and  self-possessed.  You 
must  buffet  this  wave,  and  avoid  that  one,  and  dodge 
the  drift-wood,  and  struggle  with  the  current,  and 
keep  your  course  like  a  strong  man." 

Self  murmured  a  little,  on  hearing  this  charge, 
but  seeing,  on  reflection,  that  there  was  reason  in  it, 
promised  obedience. 

I  began  the  active  duties  of  the  day  by  sending 
Mr.  Fiscal's  present  home,  accompanied  by  an  explan 
atory  note,  penned  in  as  conciliatory  a  style  as  I  could 
frame.  Then  I  paid  a  visit  to  Brother  Herrick  — 
the  sick  man  whom  I  have  already  described.  Next 
I  saw  the  WIDOW  AND  THE  FATHERLESS,  who  stood 
in  such  painful  relations  to  the  tragedy  of  the  preced 
ing  night. —  Then  I  spent  an  hour  with  Silas  Willet, 
and  heard  some  reminiscences  of  the  earliest  days  of 
Bubbleton.  Afterwards,  I  dined  with  Miss  Lark, 


A   TRAGEDY   OP  INTEMPERANCE.  131 

and  the  meal  was  graced  by  a  splendid  continuity  of 
quotations  from  Moore  and  Shelley. 

Thus,  occupying  myself  through  the  day  with  va 
rious  duties,  I  was  enabled  to  keep  anxiety  at  a  dis 
tance,  and  look  the  future  in  the  face  with  some 
assurance. 


XVII. 

TROUBLES. 

WEEKS  elapsed  without  bringing  our  affairs  to  a 
crisis,  although  the  signs  of  a  rupture  continued  as 
threatening  as  ever.  A  sullen  discontent  character 
ized  some  of  the  brethren,  and  a  curious,  eager  alert 
ness  of  observation  marked  the  demeanor  of  others. 
It  was  as  though  part  of  the  parish  were  preparing 
the  sacrifice,  while  the  rest  were  impatiently  awaiting 
the  festival  of  excitement  that  was  to  attend  it. 

Those  weeks  of  probation,  however,  were  not  to  me 
a  dead  level  of  monotony.  They  were  enlivened  and 
diversified  by  a  succession  of  annoyances,  trials,  and 
mental  struggles.  It  was  with  much  bitterness  of 
spirit,  that  I  verified  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt's  observa- 
tion,  in  reference  to  the  facility  with  which  Bubbleton 
usually  matured  its  ministers. 

The  annoyances  to  which  I  refer  began  in  the  guise 
of  ANONYMOUS  LETTERS.  It  is  astonishing  how  much 
innocent  paper  and  laborious  invention  were  squan 
dered  on  this  exhilarating  business.  And  very  inter 
esting  it  was  to  observe  under  what  varieties  of  bad 


TROUBLES.  133 

character  I  was  made  to  appear,  in  these  flattering 
epistles.  Nothing  short  of  the  most  ample  and  well- 
invested  inheritance  of  original  sin,  could  account  for 
the  prolific  iniquity  alleged  against  me  by  my  un 
known  accusers.  Sometimes  —  under  the  influence 
of  the  astounding  information  furnished  by  these  let 
ters  —  I  was  led  into  a  momentary  doubt  of  my  iden 
tity  ;  and  it  was  not  until  I  had  indulged  in  a  little 
reflection  before  the  mirror,  that  I  was  reassured  of 
not  being  somebody  else  !  The  marvel  was  that  any 
man,  to  whom  time  was  of  any  account,  should  lavish 
so  much  attention  upon  so  worthless  a  sinner,  instead 
of  handing  him  over,  by  a  familiar  process,  to  the 
lawyers  and  turnkeys. 

Another  source  of  wonder,  in  connection  with  these 
letters,  was,  that  the  greatest  of  my  misdemeanors 
seemed  to  consist,  after  all,  in  my  remaining  in  Bub- 
bleton.  My  guilt,  somehow,  magnified  itself  by  my 
relation  to  that  parish.  It  was  intimated  that  my 
salvation  must  be  expected,  not  so  much  by  means  of 
repentance,  as  by  exchanging  my  present  charge  for 
one  less  fastidious  in  its  views  and  requirements. 

I  suppose  there  are  few  people  who  are  not  suscep 
tible  of  annoyance  through  anonymous  innuendoes, — 
especially  if  they  are  plied  with  them,  with  a  persist 
ence  that  indicates  settled  hostility.  This  method  of 
warfare  is  particularly  aggravating  to  a  clergyman. 
The  peculiar  purity  of  his  office  compels  him  to  guard 
his  reputation  with  a  solicitude  unfelt  by  other  men. 
He  knows  that  his  fame  is  at  the  mercy  of  his  people. 
12 


134  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

He  feels  that  a  breath  of  suspicion  may  sully  it  forever. 
And  anonymous  letters  are  calculated  to  sting  his 
sensibilities  to  the  quick.  If  the  tact  of  their  author 
bear  any  relation  to  his  malignity,  they  will  goad  the 
poor  minister's  soul  well-nigh  to  desperation.  The 
vagueness  of  the  hints  and  warnings  thus  thrust  upon 
him,  sets  his  foolish  imagination  on  an  exploring  tour 
through  the  infinite  space  of  possibility ;  —  and  appre 
hension  sees  the  wolf  at  a  thousand  exposed  points 
which  prudence  cannot  defend. 

In  my  "model  republic,"  I  would  have  no  offence 
recognized  as  capital  but  this.  The  anonymous  as 
sailant  of  reputation  should  find  no  mercy,  if  detected. 
The  retributive  vengeance  of  the  law  —  winking  from 
afar  at  other  criminals  —  should  descend  upon  him 
like  the  night  of  doom,  and  gird  the  slimy  assassin 
with  its  seven-fold  terrors  ! 

Still,  much  as  I  suffered  from  anonymous  commu 
nications,  at  the  period  of  which  I  am  writing,  I  do 
not  think  they  would  cause  me  much  uneasiness  now. 
A  little  reflection  wrill  convince  any  person  that  they 
are  not  likely  to  prove  dangerous.  If  the  anonymous 
writer  really  had  any  truth  to  allege  against  you,  he 
would  boldly  publish  it  in  the  streets,  and  not  skulk 
behind  the  whole  crowd  of  mankind,  to  write  an  accu 
sation  in  obscurity  that  he  dare  not  support  in  public. 
— The  means  he  adopts  is  conclusive  evidence  that  he 
has  no  real  power  to  harm  you,  if  you  only  disen 
chant  your  fancy  of  the  silly  fears  with  which  the 
wicked  sorcerer  has  peopled  its  chambers. 


TROUBLES.  135 

Another  trial  that  began  to  oppress  me  about  this 
time,  was  of  a  pecuniary  nature.  It  is  true  that  my 
salary  was  liberal,  for  that  day,  and  in  view  of  my 
being  an  unmarried  man.  Six  hundred  dollars  had  a 
munificent  sound  to  my  ears,  unaccustomed  as  they 
were  to  the  jingle  of  money ;  and  there  were  people 
in  the  parish  who  appeared  to  consider  the  sum  as 
inexhaustible  as  the  purse  of  Fortunatus,  and  who 
regarded  me  as  a  kind  of  humanitarian  capitalist,  en 
dowed  with  wealth  for  the  blessed  purpose  of  bestow 
ing  charities  upon  all  the  poor  and  needy  of  Bubbleton. 

So  plausible  and  insinuating  were  the  applications 
made  to  my  purse,  in  behalf  of  all  conceivable  pur 
poses  and  exertions  for  which  money  is  required,  and 
so  insensibly  did  the  restless  dollars  take  to  them 
selves  wings,  and  fly  wheresoever  the  magicians  of 
philanthropy  willed  them  to  go,  that  my  first  quar 
ter's  salary  became  exhausted  in  less  than  a  month 
after  it  was  paid.  This  consummation  taught  me  the 
necessity  of  observing  economy,  even  with  such  a 
vast  income  as  mine ;  but,  having  acquired  some  repu 
tation  for  generosity,  and  proved  myself  an  easy  sub 
ject  in  the  hands  of  experienced  charity-farmers,  my 
efforts  at  "retrenchment"  were  not  as  successful  as  I 
could  have  desired. 

"Really  now,  Mr.  Chester,  I  think  you  must  give 
us  the  sanction  of  your  support  in  this  little  affair. 
Your  influence  will  help  us  so  much !  It  is  not  a 
great  sum  we  ask  for  —  only  five  dollars, —  and  your 
salary  is  so  liberal,  and  then  you  have  no  family  to 


136  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

support.  Of  course,  you  won't  refuse  us  this  little 
sum  from  your  income,  when  so  much  depends  upon 
your  generous  example.  Besides,  it  is  known  that 
you  gave  as  much  to  the  '  Society  of  Consolation ; ' 
and  you  must  be  aware  that  the  '  Sisters  of  Single- 
hearted  Sensibility '  have  as  good  a  claim  upon  you," 
&c.  &c. 

What  did  all  my  resolution  avail  me,  in  such  cases? 
Who  could  withstand  the  artless  persuasions  of  Ma 
gician  Honeymouth?  Like  one  controlled  by  a 
charm,  I  handed  over  the  trifling  contribution,  and 
the  "Sisters  of  Single-hearted  Sensibility"  were 
proportionally  encouraged  —  to  tease  somebody  else. 

After  Magician  Honeymouth  came  Patrick  Tatter 
demalion  —  as  voluble  and  resistless  a  scion  of  beg 
gary  as  ever  the  heaving  tide  of  emigration  cast 
upon  these  afflicted  shores.  What  heart  could  resist 
the  eloquence  of  Patrick  Tatterdemalion's  vicissitudes 
—  especially  when  he  appealed  to  your  benevolence  as 
a  minister  of  Christ,,  and  implored  blessings  upon 
you  from  all  the  saints  in  the  Roman  Catholic  calen 
dar?  It  was  not  natural  that  he  should  go  away 
unrewarded. 

A  circumstance  that  aggravated  my  pecuniary  em 
barrassments,  was  the  neglect  of  the  parish  in  not 
paying  my  second  quarter's  salary  when  it  became 
due.  Whether  this  neglect  was  owing  to  the  un 
friendly  feeling  which  had  sprung  up  in  the  minds  of 
certain  individuals  towards  me,  or  to  some  less  pain 
ful  cause,  I  was  not  informed;  but  whatever  may 


TROUBLES.  137 

have  been  its  occasion,  it  cost  me  a  great  deal  of 
precious  time,  squandered  in  days  of  enervating 
anxiety  and  nerveless  discouragement. 

My  readers  may  be  inclined  to  wonder  why  I  did 
not  rid  myself  of  all  these  troubles,  by  resigning  my 
charge,  and  seeking  a  more  congenial  field. 

This  is  my  explanation  : 

Had  I  consulted  my  own  feelings  and  judgment,  I 
should  have  adopted  this  course :  but  I  relied  upon 
the  experience  and  wisdom  of  another,  and  consented 
to  remain  a  while  longer.  My  adviser  was  Mr.  Orac 
ular  Blunt. 

"  For  the  salvation  of  Bubbleton,"  said  he,  "  stand 
firm  at  your  post.  To  go  away  would  be  a  relief  to 
you,  but  the  parish  would  suffer  by  the  step.  You 
have  made  friends  here  among  the  least  heathenish 
people  in  the  society,  and  were  you  to  leave,  they 
would  resent  the  treatment  you  have  received  as  a 
personal  injury,  and  withdraw  from  the  parish.  Then, 
what  would  become  of  the  others,  no  longer  salted  by 
the  influence  of  worthier  souls?  No  minister  in 
Christendom  would  peril  his  peace  by  coming  among 
them,  so  long  as  a  field  remains  unoccupied  in  the 
Fejee  Islands,  or  in  any  other  preferable  department 
of  heathenism !  The  probability  is  that  Bubbleton 
would  not  be  converted  until  the  very  last  day  of 
grace,  and  that  its  resuscitated  virtue  would  walk, 
dim  and  spectral,  in  the  very  rear  of  the  redeemed 
host,  that  is  to  come  to  Zion  with  songs  and  everlast 
ing  joys  !  No,  no,  Brother  Chester,  don't  flinch  from 
12* 


138  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

the  sacrifice,  but  give  yourself  to  Bubbleton  as   Dr. 
Judson  has  given  himself  to  the  Burmans." 

In  this  characteristic  manner,  and  with  these  whim 
sical  suggestions,  did  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt  exhort  mo 
to  faithfulness,  and  inculcate  that  grim  Virtue  —  self- 
denial. 


XVIII. 

SCYLLA   AND    CHAKYBDIS. 

IT  was  remarkable  how,  under  these  disagreeable 
experiences,  the  temper  of  Mr.  Peppery  changed  tow 
ards  me.  At  the  time  when  I  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
general  favor  of  the  parish,  Mr.  Peppery  considered 
me  quite  intolerable.  When,  however,  some  tokens 
of  disapprobation  appeared  among  my  former  friends, 
he  began  to  modify  the  severity  of  his  dislike.  In 
proportion  to  the  extent  and  energy  of  the  opposition 
—  as  nearly  as  he  could  determine  it  —  was  the 
progress  of  his  growing  regard  for  me. 

Unpopularity  appeared  to  him  the  evidence  and 
seal  of  moral  worth.  He  graduated  his  esteem  by 
the  adverse  ratio  of  popular  favor.  The  expression, 
"  Woe  be  unto  you  when  all  men  shall  speak  well  of 
you  !  "  seemed  to  have  monopolized  a  large  share  of 
his  meditations  during  life.  The  only  road  to  his 
friendship  led  through  the  martyr-trodden  waste  of 
persecution. 

When,  at  length,  the  active  little  reformer  had 
satisfied  himself  that  a  collision  was  inevitable  between 


140  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

the  parish  and  its  pastor,  he  hesitated  no  longer  in 
arraying  his  combustible  personality  on  the  side  of 
the  latter.  He  became  a  constant  worshipper  at 
church  ;  and,  though  I  avoided  getting  frantic  with 
any  of  the  ideas  of  reform,  and  showed  no  disposition 
to  annihilate  church  or  state,  he  listened  to  my  ser 
mons  with  respectful  interest,  and  even  manifested 
towards  me  an  affectionate  solicitude.  He  formed  £f 
habit  of  waiting  for  me  at  the  close  of  the  service, 
when  he  Avould  grasp  my  hand  in  a  spasm  of  sympathy 
— whisper  in  my  ear,  with  his  waspish  voice,  some 
solemn  scriptural  charge  —  and  finally,  with  a  linger 
ing  look  of  compassion  (as  if  he  were  in  the  moment 
ary  expectation  of  seeing  me  immolated) ,  pass  mourn 
fully  down  the  aisle,  and  hurry  from  the  church. 
Every  trace  of  his  former  antipathy  had  disappeared. 
He  seemed  to  recognize  me  as  a  partaker  of  his  own 
destiny.  And,  indeed,  I  used  to  fancy  sometimes. 
after  one  of  his  peculiar  ceremonies,  that  the  fiery 
little  man  was  managing  some  fearful  spell,  or  con 
summating  some  preternatural  influence,  to  conjure 
away  my  reason,  and  twist  my  fate  into  his  own. 

This  unaccountable  behavior  of  Mr.  Peppery  could 
not,  of  course,  pass  unobserved  by  so  vigilant  a 
parish;  and  it  were  quite  superfluous  to  remark  that 
it  occasioned  an  immense  amount  of  speculation, 
which  did  not  tend  to  enhance  my  popularity,  or  re 
store  serenity  to  the  clouded  sky  of  Bubbleton. 

One  day,  Mr.  Arlington  took  the  liberty  of  observ 
ing  to  me  — 


SCYLLA  AND   CHARYBDIS.  141 

"  I  find,  Brother  Chester,  there  is  considerable 
feeling  in  the  parish  in  reference  to  your  intimacy 
with  Mr.  Peppery." 

"Ah,"  returned  I,  "the  parish  is  imaginative. 
Its  concern  is  quite  premature,  for  I  am  not  aware 
that  any  such  intimacy  subsists." 

"The  people  judge  only  by  what  they  see,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Arlington,  significantly;  "and  you  will 
admit  that  Mr.  Peppery's  conduct  is  very  singular. 
Why,  he  has  the  very  air  of  a  conspirator,  Brother 
Chester." 

"I  confess  that  he  appears  to  me  as  a  very  singular 
man,"  I  answered ;  "  but  I  am  astonished  that  the 
parish,  after  having  known  him  so  long,  should  try  to 
make  me  accountable  for  his  eccentricities.  Is  not 
this  a  most  preposterous  piece  of  injustice,  Brother 
Arlington?" 

"Undoubtedly,  it  is  unjust;  but  then  the  people 
fgel  that  circumstances  warrant  their  apprehensions. 
They  know  Mr.  Peppery  to  be  a  dangerous  individual 
—  a  man  leagued  with  the  enemies  of  our  glorious 
constitution  —  a  reviler  of  our  national  honor, —  in 
short,  a  political  incendiary.  They  observe  that, 
ever  since  the  day  you  preached  that  remarkable  ser 
mon  on  truth,  Mr.  Peppery  has  attended  on  your 
ministry,  and  manifested  the  most  unequivocal  in 
terest  in  your  affairs.  Can  you  wonder  that  they 
regard  you  with  some  distrust,  in  view  of  your  hav 
ing  secured  the  approval  of  such  a  man  ?  Is  it  not 
natural  that  they  should  identify  your  principles  with 


142  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

his?  Really,  it  is  much  to  be  regretted,"  concluded 
Mr.  Arlington,  with  benign  sorrow,  "  that  such  a  mis 
chievous  person  should  connect  himself  at  all  with  a 
minister  of  ours." 

It  was  but  a  day  or  two  subsequent  to  this  conver 
sation,  that  Mr.  Peppery  waited  upon  me  at  home. 
He  certainly  did  exhibit  the  air  of  a  conspirator,  as 
he  grasped  my  hand,  peered  into  my  face,  and  de 
manded,  with  all  the  energy  of  his  terrific  little 
voice : 

"  Isn't  it  about  time  you  gave  them  another  shot, 
Brother  Chester?" 

I  recoiled  from  the  waspish  little  reformer,  with  a 
feeling  akin  to  terror.  There  was  something  almost 
supernatural  in  the  solemn  fierceness  and  suppressed 
impatience  of  his  manner. 

"Another  shot!  Who  ?"  exclaimed  I,  half  re 
covering. 

"Why,  the  parish  —  the  church,  to  be  sure. 
An't  you  going  to  blow  them  again  ?  " 

"  Blow  the  parish  ?  —  the  church?  I  'm  not  sure  I 
understand  you." 

"Not  understand  me?  Yes  you  do!  Come! 
where 's  the  use  of  playing  a  part  ?  Did  n't  you  give 
them  the  sermon  I  exhorted  you  to  preach  —  or  some 
thing  as  good  ?  and  did  n't  it  echo  through  Bubbleton, 
like  the  blast  of  a  trumpet?  Hasn't  the  parish  been 
in  an  uproar  about  it,  ever  since  ?  and  an't  the  hyp 
ocrites  resolved  to  expel  you  from  your  charge  ?  Not 
understand  me  ?  Nonsense  !  Is  n't  it  war  between 
you  ?  and  have  n't  you  got  to  defend  yourself?  " 


SCYLLA   AND   CHARYBDIS.  143 

u  Brother  Peppery,"  said  I,  now  quite  recovered, 
"  let  us  understand  each  other  entirely,  if  we  can. 
You  mistake  my  disposition  and  intentions.  The  ser 
mon  to  which  you  allude  was  not  suggested  by  your 
visit.  That  it  has  occasioned  some  sensation  in  the 
parish,  I  was  informed.  What  the  issue  is  to  be,  I 
cannot  tell.  But  I  have  no  desire  to  provoke  strife. 
While  I  hope  for  courage  to  speak  the  truth  to  my 
hearers,  faithfully,  I  shall  exert  myself  to  promote 
peace.  I  should  not  deem  myself  justified  in  pursu 
ing  the  course  which  you  appear  to  have  expected." 

As  I  had  foreseen,  in  thus  "  defining  my  position," 
I  put  Mr.  Peppery  into  a  passion.  He  snarled  at  me, 
with  a  most  furious  scowl  of  disappointment :  ' 

"  Are  you,  then,  the  same  tame-spirited,  compro 
mising  slip  of  a  recreant  ministry  I  found  you  before  ? 
The  Lord  help  such  drivellers,  and  those  who  look  to 
them  to  be  equipped  for  the  battle  of  life  !  How 
miserably  have  I  redeemed  the  time,  of  late,  listening 
to  your  timid  twaddle  !  Well !  "  shrieked  the  little 
reformer,  as  he  darted  through  the  doorway,  "  I  was 
a  fool  for  thinking  that  a  drop  of  God's  grace  survived 
in  any  minister,  or  church,  in  this  doomed  city.  They 
are  altogether  become  unprofitable,  and  the  wrath  of 
Heaven  is  revealed  against  them  ! " 

I  thought  the  mad  little  prophet  had  gone,  but  he 
returned  upon  me,  with  a  flash  of  latent  scorn  play 
ing  over  his  fiery  face,  and  exclaimed  : 

' '  Remember,  you  have  put  your  hand  to  the 
plough,  and  now  you  look  back.  You  have  lost  the 


144  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

favor  of  the  hypocrites,  and  proved  yourself  unworthy 
the  confidence  of  the  righteous.  You  are  unfit  for 
that  heavenly  kingdom  of  justice  and  truth,  which  we 
will  establish,  with  God's  help,  upon  the  ruins  of  po 
litical  oppression,  and  in  defiance  "of  priestly  pol 
troonery.  All  true  men  to  the  rescue!  Farewell." 
And  there  lay  my  course — and  there  lies  every 
minister's  course — between  Scylla,  unyielding  rock 
of  conservatism  —  and  Charybdis,  wrathful  whirlpool 
of  radicalism. 


XIX. 

THE   SEWING- CIRCLE. 

IT  is  five  o'clock,  and  I  am  about  to  pay  my  cus 
tomary  respects  to  the  sewing-circle. 

The  sewing-circle  is  an  important  auxiliary  to  the 
Bubbleton  society.  Its  ostensible  object  is  charity, 
but  its  earnings  are  more  frequently  devoted  to  the 
payment  of  some  of  the  current  expenses  of  the  parish. 
It  is  governed  by  an  active  and  vigorous  maiden  lady, 
who  has  attained  to  "  years  of  discretion,"  and  who 
shall  be  known  to  my  readers  as  Miss  Ophelia  Penny 
weight.  It  is  numerously  attended  by  a  class  of  la 
dies,  who  prove  their  efficiency  both  with  their  needles 
and  their  tongues ;  and  while  they  make  themselves 
very  useful  with  one  instrument,  they  become  very 
entertaining  with  the  other  —  thus  enlivening  the 
monotony  of  toil  by  domestic  narratives,  mysterious  con 
fidences,  startling  innuendoes,  and  flashing  repartees. 

I  really  wonder  if  any  society  exists,  or  could 
exist,  independently  of  the  sewing-circle?  How 
would  Christian  women  dispose  of  their  superabun 
dant  vitality,  without  this  social  and  humanitarian 
13 


146  BUBBLETON    1'AKISH. 

"sphere"?  How  could  you  insure  that  "  general 
diffusion  of  knowledge,"  in  reference  to  all  matters 
pertaining  to  the  parish  and  the  minister,  or  provide 
for  the  discussion  of  all  the  local  interests  and  per 
sonal  eccentricities  that  attract  the  vigilant  eye  of 
woman,  without  these  intellectual  assemblies  ?  How 
could  you  preserve  a  healthy  circulation  of  mental 
life  in  the  head  and  members  of  the  parish,  without 
this  sparkling  infusion  of  wit,  gossip,  pertness,  and 
pleasantry  ? 

We  might  as  well  think  of  giving  up  the  daily 
newspaper,  and  rail  againsfc  debating  clubs  and  polit 
ical  caucuses,  as  think  of  dispensing  with  sewing- 
circles,  or  complain  of  the  large  freedom  of  speech, 
or  liberality  of  investigation,  which  they  proverbially 
exhibit. 

Miss  Ophelia  Pennyweight  is  not  beloved  in  the 
Bubbleton  circle.  She  is  too  austere,  sharp,  despotic, 
and  practical  —  too  old,  and  angular,  and  unsocial  — 
to  make  much  progress  in  winning  affection  anywhere. 
But  she  is  adapted  to  her  position,  and  all  the  ladies 
recognize  her  superiority  in  the  management  of  the 
circle.  They  complain  of  her  —  they  revile  her  — 
they  make  themselves  merry  with  her  dignified  and 
old-fashioned  manners  —  when  she  is  not  present ;  — • 
but  they  know  that  the  circle  would  not  survive  three 
months,  without  her  rough  energy  and  homely  com 
mon  sense.  Moreover,  much  as  they  ridicule  her  at 
a  distance,  in  her  presence  they  are  all  more  or  less 
awed  by  a  sense  of  her  authority,  and  the  boldest  of 


THE    SEWING-CIRCLE.  147 

them  would  not  like  to  encounter  her  deliberate  and 
stony  frown,  or  still  less  to  receive  an  oral  reproof,  in 
her  keen  and  rather  shrewish  voice. 

Not  that  Miss  Ophelia  Pennyweight  imposed  any 
restrictions  upon  conversation,  so  long  as  it  did  not 
interfere  with  work, —  she  doubtless  knew  too  much 
about  the  disposition  of  her  sex  to  attempt  anything 
so  preposterous, —  but  she  usually  maintained  on  her 
own  part  a  severe  and  silent  gravity,  and  saw,  with 
the  quick  eye  of  an  overseer,  when  a  piece  of  absorb 
ing  gossip  was  likely  to  trip  the  toes  of  Industry. 
Nor  was  the  excellent  spinster  ignorant  of  her  unpop 
ularity;  but.  like  other  strong-minded  rulers,  she 
derived,  from  the  exercise  of  power,  that  consolation 
which  was  denied  her  in  the  affections  of  those  over 
whom  she  presided. 

No  lady  stood  in  greater  dread  of  Miss  Ophelia 
Pennyweight's  authority,  than  my  pretty  friend,  Miss 
Lark ;  and  for  the  reason,  I  suppose,  that  no  one  else 
incurred  her  rebuke  so  often.  Miss  Pennyweight  and 
Miss  Lark  may  be  said  to  have  occupied  opposite  poles 
of  womanhood.  Their  characteristics  were  mutually 
repugnant.  One  was  practical  —  the  other  was  ideal. 
Miss  Pennyweight's  universe  was  a  work-shop  ;  Miss 
Lark's  universe  was  a  kind  of  fairy-land.  One  was 
consecrated  to  Utility,  and  her  Bible  was  a  book  of 
domestic  recipes ;  the  other  was  consecrated  to  Poetry, 
and  she  had  a  monthly  revelation  in  the  pages  of  ihe 
Ladies'  Book. 

Miss  Pennyweight  had  bade  adieu  to  Youth,  and 


148  BUBBLBTON    PARISH. 

cast  Love  out  of  the  window,  -while  Hope  was  tolerated 
only  in  the  antiquated  garb  of  Faith ;  but  Miss  Lark 
had  half  the  treasury  of  Youth  unspent  —  was  not 
sceptical  in  reference  to  the  affections,  or  the  suscepti 
bilities  of  men,  and  owned  a  large  estate  in  Dream- 
Land,  under  the  fantastical  supervision  of  Expectation 
and  Desire. 

One  of  the  rare  occasions  that  drew  Miss  Penny 
weight  from  her  austere  silence,  at  the  meetings  of 
the  circle,  was  when  Miss  Lark  chanced  to  allude  to 
the  poets,  or  indulged  in  some  dreamy  utterance  of 
sentiment.  Then  the  spinster  would  descend  from  her 
cold  height,  with  such  a  terrible  and  wrathfully-con- . 
temptuous  "  fiddle-stick ,"  that  poor  Miss  Lark  would 
retire  beneath  her  blushes  and  her  needle- work  — 
feeling,  I  dare  say,  how  hopelessly  the  avenues  of 
Poetry  and  Beauty  were  closed  against  her  barbarous 
and  unsympathizing  superior. 

It  so  happens  that  Miss  Lark  is  the  happy  person 
who  entertains  the  sewing-circle,  this  particular  after 
noon  ;  and  being,  herself,  by  virtue  of  a  good  heart 
and  an  obliging  disposition,  something  of  a  favorite  in 
the  parish,  and  the  weather  presenting  no  obstacle  to 
neutralize  the  attractions  of  her  rooms,  there  is  an 
unusually  large  company ;  and  when  I  join  the  circle, 
a  little  after  five  o'clock.  I  do  not  find  it  wanting  in 
gayety  or  interest. 

First  I  observe  a  group  of  girls,  seated  together  in 
the  door- ward  corner  of  the  room  —  occupying  very 
low  seats,  which  are  found  favorable  to  low,  confiden- 


THE   SEWING-CIRCLE.  149 

tial  talk  —  busy  enough  with  their  fingers,  no  doubt, 
for  they  are  within  range  of  the  president's  awful 
eyes,  but  showing  a  far  deeper  interest  in  what  their 
fancies  pursue,  as  they  whisper  there  with  bent  heads, 
and  flashes  of  mirth  that  gleam  through  their  pendent 
curls.  They  greet  me  with  a  clear,  sunny,  natural 
look  and  smile.  The  "  opposition  "  has  not  infected 
them,  at  least. 

Then  I  encounter  a  group  of  middle-aged  ladies, 
among  whom  are  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  Mrs.  Gleason,  and 
by  whom  the  affairs  of  the  parish  are  being  quite  ear 
nestly  discussed,  according  to  a  system  borrowed  from 
their  experienced  husbands.  I  do  not  feel  so  confi 
dent  of  the  friendship  of  these  ladies :  there  is  some 
thing  in  their  greeting  that  provokes  distrust  and 
after-thought,  and  my  presence  seems  to  have  inter 
rupted  their  discussion,  although  I  leave  them,  and 
pass  on  to  take  the  hands  of  others. 

I  reach  the  president,  seated  in  cold  dignity  by 
herself,  and  employing  her  lean  fingers  with  a  most 
enigmatical  sort  of  knitting.  Miss  Ophelia  Penny 
weight  is  gracious,  in  her  cold,  sharp,  antiquated  way, 
and  suspends  her  mysterious  knitting  about  ten  sec 
onds  to  perform  the  usages  of  friendship. 

Miss  Lark  has  a  mother,  with  whom  she  lives, — 
an  old  lady  of  sixty,  who  has  known  trouble,  and 
toiled  hard  in  the  world,  since  her  husband  fell  —  an 
offering  to  his  country  —  at  Plattsburg ;  but  whose 
cheerfulness  and  vivacity  make  you  forget  to  estimate 
her  years.  It  is  pleasant  to  sit  by  her  large,  comfort- 
13* 


150  BUBBLBTON   PARISH. 

able  old  chair,  and  listen  to  her  strong  and  happy 
voice. 

At  the  piano  —  turning  over  a  pile  of  music,  rather 
listlessly  —  I  find  Miss  Arlington.  She  is  not  a 
member  of  the  circle  —  indeed,  rarely  attends  its 
meetings  —  and  consequently  is  not  under  the  presi 
dent's  dominion.  She  is  here,  to-day,  by  entreaty  of 
our  mutual  friend,  Miss  Lark.  She  is,  just  now,  in 
one  of  her  most  hopeless  reveries,  as  I  can  see  even 
before  I  approach  her.  She  is  not  examining  the 
music  —  she  is  not  hearing  the  conversation  —  she  is 
not  awed  by  the  terrors  of  Miss  Ophelia  Pennyweight ; 
she  is  apart  from  us  all,  locked  up  in  her  peculiar 
sphere,  and  occupied  by  thoughts  which  the  circle  is 
not  prone  to  discuss.  The  circle,  no  doubt,  regards 
jher  with  some  surprise ;  the  middle-aged  ladies  pro 
nounce  her  proud,  unsocial,  arrogant ;  and  conclude, 
in  the  largest  exercise  of  their  charity,  that  she  must 
be  in  love.  The  girls  think  her  too  serious  and  intel 
lectual  for  them,  but  they  do  not  dislike  her ;  —  with 
the  unerring  instinct  of  innocence,  they  have  read 
her  countenance,  and  discerned  the  texture  of  her 
heart,  and  they  have  a  quiet,  reluctant  persuasion  that 
she  is  very,  very  unhappy. 

I  am  standing  by  the  piano  before  Miss  Arlington 
raises  her  head. 

I  receive  the  full  power  of  her  glance,  and  am 
startled  by  the  revelation  it  affords  of  her  feelings. 
What  an  expression  of  premature  anguish,  of  profound 
and  solemn  spiritual  anxiety,  is  recorded  on  her 


THE   SEWING- CIRCLE.  151 

youthful  countenance  !  I  have  never  seen  such  evi 
dence  of  inward  conflict  inscribed  upon  a  face  so  fair, 
or  such  lofty  trouble  gush  from  a  life  outwardly  so 
fortunate  and  tranquil. 

We  exchanged  but  a  word ;  the  parlor  was  in  com 
motion  —  we  had  just  been  summoned  down  to  tea. 

"  Mr.  Chester,"  said  Miss  Lark,  in  her  amiable  way, 
"  I  hope  you  may  cheer  Louisa's  spirits  by  touching 
some  kindred  chord,  for  the  rest  of  us  have  signally 
failed.  She  has  been  very  moody  this  afternoon." 

"  Mr.  Chester  knows  my  whims  and  moods,"  re 
turned  Miss  Arlington,  with  a  changed  expression; 
"  they  are  not  worthy  to  tax  his  skill,  or  your  care. 
Come,  I  believe  you  said  tea  was  ready." 

After  tea,  there  is  not  much  trace  of  Miss  Arling 
ton's  revery,  and  Miss  Lark,  freed  from  anxiety  on 
her  account,  begins  to  tease  me  for  a  contribution  to 
an  album.  After  holding  out  as  long  as  I  could  have 
done  if  I  had  been  Petrarch  himself,  I  promise  the 
inevitable  poem.  —  Then  I  am  good-naturedly  taken 
to  task  for  having  exchanged,  the  preceding  Sabbath, 
with  Brother  Oracular  Blunt. 

"  How  could  you?  "  demanded  Miss  Lark,  pathet 
ically. 

"  What  is  your  objection  to  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt?  " 
demanded  I. 

"  0,  he  is  such  a  horrid  preacher!  no  refine 
ment — " 

"  Horrid  do  you  call  him?  I  cannot  agree  with 
you.  I  find  him  among  the  pleasantest  of  compan- 


152  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

ions.  No  refinement,  Miss  Lark  ?  Why,  I  find  him 
one  of  the  gentlest  of  friends  —  he  is  like  a  brother." 

"  No  poetry,"  persisted  Miss  Lark,  with  earnest- 
nes,s;  "  no  sentiment  — 

"  No  fiddle-stick,  then  !  "  retorted  Miss  Ophelia 
Pennyweight,  with  all  the  contempt  that  could  be 
wrung  from  her  sour  dignity. 

Poor  Miss  Lark  was  abashed,  but  she  rallied,  and 
resumed : 

"He  preaches  at  you  so  terribly  —  he  talks  so 
frightfully  plain  —  he  makes  you  think  so  meanly  of 
yourself — he  has  such  a  savage  earnestness  about 
him,  all  the  while,  that  none  of  us,  I  'm  sure,  can 
enjoy  hearing  him  at  all.  Do  you  think  we  can, 
Louisa?" 

I  glanced  at  the  person  thus  appealed  to,  and  saw 
the  print  of  the  revery  on  her  countenance  again. 
She  answered,  speaking  softly,  and  to  herself,  rather 
than  addressing  any  one  else  : 

"I  like  Mr.  Blunt,  I  think  he  is  consistent;  I 
admire  him." 

Miss  Lark  put  up  her  hands,  and  seemed  speech 
less. 

"  You  quite  amaze  me,  Louisa ! "  she  exclaimed, 
finally;  "  admire  Oracular  Blunt!  Why,  there 's  a 
scowl  upon  the  whole  church  when  he  enters  the  pul 
pit.  You  know  our  people  can't  bear  him." 

"  I  spoke  but  for  myself,"  answered  Miss  Arling 
ton,  sadly. 


THE   SEWING-CIRCLE.  153 

"  But  your  taste  was  not  always  so  odd,  dear  ?  " 
pursued  Miss  Lark. 

"My  taste!"  cried  Miss  Arlington,  with  start 
ling  emphasis ;  "I  did  not  suppose  it  a  thing  with 
which  taste  has,  properly,  much  to  do.  —  Were  we 
speaking  of  the  fashion  of  a  bonnet,  or  of  something 
rather  more  essential  and  permanent  1  Is  the  saving 
of  one's  soul  a  process  in  which  the  great  thing  is  to 
exercise  taste  and  grow  fastidious  1 ' ' 

Miss  Lark  was  troubled  by  these  words.  They 
seemed  to  have  been  coined  in  Mr.  Oracular  Blunt's 
own  mint;  and  the  thought  of  having  her  gentle 
friend  infected  with  that  barbarian's  spirit,  was'  cer 
tainly  alarming  to  one  so  conscious  of  nerves  and 
poetry. 

But  the  honest  pastor  of  D r  was  not  released 

without  scars : 

"My  husband  thought  he  insulted  the  congrega 
tion,  and  I  thought  so  too,"  said  Mrs.  Gleason,  who, 
by  the  way,  was  always  of  her  husband's  mind. 

"  Mr.  W..  thinks  him  a  very  ill-bred  minister," 
added  Mrs.  Wilkins,  who  always  designated  her  com 
panion  by  that  imposing  initial. 

And  the  lady  glanced  reproachfully  at  me,  as  if  to 
impress  the  fact  that  the  parish  did  not  endorse  my 
estimate  of  Mr.  Blunt. 

Miss  Lark  could  not  help  looking  somewhat  tri 
umphant. 

Miss  Arlington  relapsed  into  her  hopeless  revery. 

I  expressed  my  surprise  that  Mr.  Gleason  should 


154  BUBBLBTON   PARISH. 

have  thought  the  congregation  insulted  by  Mr.  Blunt' s 
plain  dealing,  and  that  Mr.  Wilkins  should  consider 
him  an  ill-bred  minister. 

The  ladies  saw  nothing  surprising  in  these  opinions. 
As  Miss  Lark  had  said,  Mr.  Blunt  preached  right  at 
you,  with  an  appalling  directness  that  gave  you  no 
chance  of  escape.  He  surrounded  you  with  his  war 
like  engines,  and  pressed  you  with  his  fiery  lines  of 
argument  and  expostulation,  as  if  you  were  the  chief 
sinner  in  the  universe.  In  the  closeness  and  ferocity 
of  his  attack,  he  grew  personal. —  he  seemed  to  mean 
you,  and  nobody  else, —  he  held  you  up  by  yourself, 
as  if  you  were  a  criminal,  and  invited  everybody  to 
behold  your  guilt.  In  a  word,  he  was  the  most  im 
pudent  and  frightful  of  preachers !  he  disordered  your 
nerves,  irritated  your  temper,  and  destroyed  your 
peace.  He  turned  your  church  into  a  court  of  jus 
tice,  and,  instead  of  administering  the  comfortable 
truths  of  the  Gospel,  arraigned  you  for  misdemeanors 
and  found  you  guilty. 

Such  were  the  charges  preferred  against  my  friend. 
Mr.  Oracular  Blunt,  on  the  part  of  Bubbleton.  The 
main  fault  of  that  minister  seemed  to  consist  in  the 
simplicity  with  which  he  appropriated  the  leading 
characteristics  of  the  apostles  to  the  purposes  of  his 
own  ministry.  Unsophisticated  man  that  he  was  !  he 
spent  his  life  in  the  noble  delusion,  that  his  chief 
business  was  to  tell  his  hearers  the  truth,  with  the 
plainest  and  fewest  words,  leaving  the  result  with  Him 
who  gave  him  his  commission. 


THE   SEWING-CIRCLE.  155 

The  conversation  was  still  pursuing  this  edifying 
course,  when  Mr.  Arlington  arrived.  That  gentle 
man's  calm  exterior  was  a  little  ruffled,  as  one  accus 
tomed  to  study  his  deportment  might  see.  Through 
his  refined  courtesy  and  bland  smile,  gleamed  the 
tokens  of  unwonted  excitement  —  perhaps  of  deep  and 
ill-suppressed  passion. 

' '  Have  you  heard  the  news  from  the  city,  Brother 
Chester?"  he  inquired,  sitting  at  my  side,  after  hav 
ing  paid  his  respects  to  the  ladies. 

"I  have  not,"  I  returned;  "pray  what  is  the 
news?" 

' '  Why,  it  seems  there  was  a  riot,  or  nearly  that, 
yesterday — " 

"A  riot,  sir  !  " 

"Yes,  in  the  Abolitionist  Hall.  A  very  disgrace 
ful  affair  it  must  have  been,  I  fear." 

"Was  it  a  political  disturbance?  Ah,  now  I  re 
member  that  Mr.  Thompson  *  was  to  have  spoken  in 
Boston,  yesterday,  on  slavery." 

"You  have  guessed  the  source  of  the  mischief. 
Our  free-born  people  will  not  permit  Englishmen  to 
interfere  with  their  institutions.  They  feel  them 
selves  competent  to  manage  their  own  affairs.  I  think 
this  meddlesome  incendiary  might  have  anticipated 
trouble." 


*  The  allusion  is  to  the  scene  of  Mr.  Thompson's  first  appear 
ance  in  Boston,  not  to  the  scene  of  November,  1850. 


156  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

"Was  Mr.  Thompson,  then,  actually  mobbed?" 
cried  I. 

"His  meeting  was  broken  up,"  answered  Mr.  Ar 
lington,  ' '  and  he  saw  fit  to  secure  himself  by  flight. 
The  rioters  were  very  much  incensed,  it  is  said,  and 
were  ready  to  proceed  to  the  most  sanguinary  acts." 

"  He  is  understood  to  have  made  his  escape,  then?  " 
said  I. 

"Yes,  the  Abolitionists  covered  him  with  their 
bucklers,  and  got  him  safely  out  of  the  hall.  The 
mob  was  hard  after  him,  but  he  eluded  pursuit,  and 
found  a  place  of  refuge  somewhere.  He  has  doubt 
less  left  the  city,  before  now." 

As  I  sat  ruminating  over  the  recital,  Mr.  Arling 
ton  resumed : 

'-'  It  seems  the  Yankee  fanatics  did  not  come  off  so 
well  from  the  melee.  I  hear  of  half  a  dozen  who 
were  more  or  less  injured,  in  defending  this  foreign 
agitator.  They  will  not  receive  much  sympathy,  I 
am  afraid.  If  they  persist  in  violating  the  national 
feelings  of  the  people,  and  in  supporting  English 
emissaries,  like  Mr.  Thompson,  they  have  no  reason 
to  complain  of  the  patriotic  indignation  which  their 
fanaticism  excites !  " 

"Why,  father!"  exclaimed  Miss  Arlington  (and 
her  face  glowed  with  interest  and  amazement),  "you 
do  not  surely  intend  to  apologize  for  this  outrage,  by 
calling  the  ruffianly  spirit  of  those  rioters  patriotic 
indignation  ?" 

"We  will  not   argue,  my  daughter,"  quoth  Mr. 


THE   SEWING-CIRCLE.  157 

Arlington,  somewhat  disconcerted,  and  with  a  little 
tartness  in  his  tone.  "Mr.  Peppery  has  imposed 
enough  discussion  upon  me  to-night,  already.  A  very 
desperate  man  !  " 

"  Was  Mr.  Peppery  at  the  meeting  yesterday?  "  I 
inquired. 

' '  Certainly,  he  was.  He  would  not  have  missed 
the  occasion  on  any  account.  And  his  zeal  has  cost 
him  dear,  I  assure  you  !  " 

"  Has  anything  befallen  him  ?  "  I  inquired,  in  con 
siderable  alarm. 

"Yes,  he  was  thrown  down,  in  the  tumult,  and 
trampled  very  badly.  He  was  brought  home,  this 
afternoon,  pretty  much  insensible. —  His  injuries  are 
quite  serious  indeed." 

Miss  Lark  uttered  a  slight  scream, —  Miss  Arling 
ton  leaned  her  brow  upon  her  hand, —  Miss  Penny 
weight  suspended  her  knitting. 

There  was  a  strong  sensation  in  the  circle,  for  Mr. 
Peppery  was  familiarly  known  to  every  person  pres 
ent,  and  his  misfortune  inspired  the  lively  sympathy 
of  most  of  them. 

"  I  went  round  to  see  the  reckless  man,  this  even 
ing,"  said  Mr.  Arlington,  "but  he  no  sooner  saw  me 
than  he  forgot  his  pains,  and  began  to  assail  me  with 
his  Garrisonian  fanaticism. —  He  is  a  thorough  mad 
man  —  as  unmanageable  as  a  wild  tiger.  By  the 
way,  Brother  Chester,"  added  the  parishioner,  "he 
had  a  good  deal  of  denunciation  to  offer  against  your- 
14 


158  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

self. —  I  am  glad  to  find  that  his  singular  intimacy 
with  you  is  over." 

"Nevertheless,"  answered  I,  "it  is  but  right  that 
I  should  go  and  see  the  poor  man  in  his  affliction." 

And  I  went. 


XX. 

THE   ABOLITIONISTS. 

I  FOUND  poor  Mr.  Peppery  in  a  very  sad  condition 
indeed.  His  physical  injuries  were  serious  enough 
to  awaken  sympathy ;  but  the  excitement  of  the  riot, 
together  with  the  pain  he  had  endured,  had  acted  so 
powerfully  upon  his  peculiar  temperament  as  to  ren 
der  him  partially  delirious.  His  ravings  sparkled 
with  revolutionary  epithets.  He  summoned  his 
brother-reformers  to  the  conflict,  by  the  most  exciting 
appeals.  He  hurled  upon  the  oppressors  and  their 
apologists  a  torrent  of  invective,  as  vivid  in  its  con 
ception  as  Scriptural  metaphors  could  render  it,  and 
as  lofty  in  its  tone  as  the  periods  of  Rienzi  or  of  Sher 
idan.  The  entire  nature  of  the  man  glowed  with  the 
fanaticism  of  liberty  and  self-devotion. 

It  was  my  first  visit  to  Mr.  Peppery's  home,  and  I 
soon  perceived  that  his  family  —  which  consisted  of  a 
wife  and  three  children  —  were  not  less  objects  of 
sympathy  than  himself.  Both  the  furniture  of  the 
house  and  the  clothing  of  its  inmates  betrayed  great 
destitution.  It  was  evident  that  the  little  reformer 


160  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

devoted  his  whole  time  to  his  ungrateful  country. 
He  had  not  done  a  day's  work,  as  the  poor  wife  sub 
sequently  told  me,  for  three  months.  The  oldest 
child  —  a  ragged,  scowling  little  urchin  of  some  eight 
years  —  told  me,  with  angry  tears  in  his  eyes,  that 
he  "  wished  there  never  had  been  any  niggers  made ! " 
And,  indeed,  he  seemed  likely  to  grow  up  with  as 
great  an  antipathy  for  his  colored  brethren,  as  his 
father  had  expressed  for  their  enslavers. 

A  large  number  of  Mr.  Peppery 's  neighbors  and 
acquaintances  were  present,  and  I  saw,  by  the  sym 
pathy  which  they  uniformly  expressed,  that  he  was 
not  likely  to  want  any  aid  which  it  was  in  their  pow 
er  to  render.  Satisfied  of  this,  I  soon  withdrew, 
without  having  attracted  the  reformer's  personal 
notice. 

Grouped  around  the  doorway,  and  half-illuminated 
by  one  of  the  street-lamps,  stood  about  a  dozen  men, 
earnestly  discussing  the  riot.  In  the  hope  of  learning 
more  fully  the  particulars  of  the  scene,  I  lingered  and 
gave  ear  to  their  observations.  Presently  I  discov 
ered  another  listener,  standing  near  by,  in  the  person 
of  a  tall  and  rather  distinguished-looking  man,  who 
held  his  cloak  before  his  face,  as  if  desirous  of  con 
cealing  his  features.  There  was  a  certain  air  about 
this  individual  that  instantly  impressed  me  with  the 
idea  of  his  being  a  stranger  in  Bubbleton. 

"I  pity  Peppery,  with  all  my  heart,"  observed 
one  of  the  men, — "a  good  fellow  by  nature,  only 
spoiled  by  this  Abolition  humbug." 


THE   ABOLITIONISTS.  161 

"Ah,  that's  it,"  said  another;  " these  Abolition 
ists  are  a  curse  to  the  country." 

"They  do  the  poor  niggers  infinitely  more  harm 
than  good,"  asserted  another;  "  they  only  exasperate 
their  masters." 

"  And  foster  sectional  prejudices  between  the  North 
and  South." 

"And  play  into  the  hands  of  English  spies,  like 
this  Thompson." 

Here  I  observed  the  stranger  start,  and  shrug  his 
shoulders. 

"I  doubt  all  that,  neighbors,"  cried  a  new  voice, 
•which  I  recognized  as  that  of  Harry  Hanson,  the 
blacksmith ;  "I  doubt  it,  sirs." 

"Doubt  what,  Harry?" 

"  What  you  say  against  the  Abolitionists." 

"Ah.  I  knew  you  sympathized  with  them,"  said 
one  of  the  men,  "and  more 's  the  pity! — Look  at 
Peppery,  poor  dog!  and  beware." 

"Friend  Peppery  is  a  little  fanatical,  I  grant," 
returned  the  blacksmith;  "but,  Lord!  I  like  him 
all  the  better  for  it.  Why,  his  very  rage  does  him 
honor ! ' ' 

"  I  don't  see  why." 

"  Because  it  shows  that  he  has  some  appreciation 
of  the  wrong  he  has  enlisted  against. —  That 's  why  I 
like  the  Abolitionists,  all  in  all.  They  act  like  men 
in  earnest.  They  give  things  their  right  names. 
They  don't  flatter,  nor  dissemble.  They  fawn  neither 
to  churchmen  nor  to  politicians,  but  tell  them,  in 
14* 


162  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

blunt  speech,  what  they  ought  to  do,  and  belabor 
them  soundly  because  they  won't  do  it.  Lord  !  they 
are  the  only  men  among  us  who  dare  give  the  devil 
his  due,  and  we  are  jealous  of  their  courage  and 
honesty !  Gentlemen,  we  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
ourselves." 

"  There  !  hear  him  !  he  's  almost  as  mad  as  Peppery 
himself." 

"  Mad  !  "  echoed  the  blacksmith,  towering  aloft  his 
gigantic  frame,  u that's  what  we  always  say  of  men 
who  are  in  earnest,  in  any  great  cause.  Don't  you 
remember  what  Festus  thought  of  Paul?  Don't  you 
know  what  the  world  thought  of  Luther,  in  his  day  ? 
Why,  I  suspect  that  same  Wittemberg  monk  must 
have  seemed  the  maddest  of  men,  to  the  ignorant  peo 
ple,  and  priestly  buffoons,  and  Romish  cardinals,  and 
immaculate  popes,  and  tricky  kings. 

"Don't  you  remember  what  they  thought  of  Co 
lumbus,  too  ?  —  a  man  whose  madness  moved  the 
mirth  of  scholars,  and  the  contempt  of  princes ;  but  a 
madness,  nevertheless,  that  we  Americans  have  long 
been  reconciled  to,  I  dare  say  !  Then  think,  too,  of 
that  eminent  madman  of  ours,  George  Washington, 
and  some  thousands  of  fellow-madmen,  Avho  gave  their 
lives  and  fortunes  and  sacred  honors  for  the  trivial 
consideration  of  being  their  own  masters,  and  trans 
mitting  freedom  to  such  an  undeserving  generation  of 
poltroons  as  we  are,  gentlemen  ! 

' '  Lord  !  when  we  take  the  trouble  to  think  a  little, 
it  turns  out  that  we  are  prodigiously  indebted  to  those 


THE   ABOLITIONISTS.  163 

madmen,  for  various  reasons.  Perhaps,  now,  this 
Abolition  madness  may  be  found  to  be  of  the  same 
order,  gentlemen.  It  certainly  appears  to  have  some 
thing  to  do  with  freedom,  and  brotherhood,  and  the 
rights  of  man." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  the  stranger  tapped 
his  boot  upon  the  pavement,  as  if  he  would  encore  the 
sentiment ;  but  most  of  the  others  grumbled  and  dis 
sented,  and  growled  "  Nonsense  !  " 

"Gentlemen,"  pursued  the  blacksmith,  speaking 
with  much  excitement,  "  the  Abolitionists  are  the  only 
people  among  us  who  realize  what  American  slavery 
is.  Lord !  the  rest  of  the  people  talk  about  it,  as 
though  it  were  a  mere  invention  of  some  story-writer. 
Its  REALITY  don't  take  hold  of  them.  They  specu 
late  upon  it,  as  though  it  were  a  supposition  that 
somebody  had  raised ;  the  Abolitionists  treat  it  as  a 
fact,  and  we  declare  that  they  are  beside  them 
selves  !  " 

u  Humbug  !  do  you  expect  us  to  believe  all  that 's 
said  about  the  miseries  of  the  slaves  1  —  Mere  imposi 
tion —  mere  Abolition  capital.  I  dare  say  they  are, 
generally,  as  m  comfortable  and  well -treated  a  set  of 
dogs  as  can  be  found  the  world  over !  " 

"  There  it  is  !  "  responded  the  blacksmith ;  — "you 
treat  the  whole  thing  as  a  fiction.  In  your  eyes, 
slavery,  to  a  certain  class  of  human  beings,  is  a  com 
fortable  condition.  The  slaves  would  be  contented 
enough  with  their  lot,  if  the  Abolitionists  would  let 
them  alone  ! .  They  have  really  no  wrongs  to  complain 


164  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

of, —  the  brutality  under  which  they  groan,  and  to 
escape  from  Avhich  they  often  peril  all  things,  is  only 
the  scandalous  invention  of  northern  fanatics  !  This 
is  the  agreeable  belief  of  nine-tenths  of  the  northern 
people.  If  it  were  not  for  the  deeper-sighted  and  bold- 
spoken  liberty  men  —  who  insist  on  telling  the  world 
just  what  slavery  is  —  this  enormous  wrong  might 
remain,  undisturbed,  till  doomsday. 

"Lord!  neighbors  mine,"  continued  Harry  Han 
son,  "don't  repeat  that  shameful  nonsense  about  the 
Abolitionists  only  making  slavery  worse.  Why,  in 
the  first  place,  it  can't  be  made  worse, —  the  devil 
himself  could  n't  improve  on  the  villanies  American 
slavery  permits  and  legalizes !  Then,  in  the  second 
place,  will  you  please  to  tell  me  whether  all  reforms 
have  not  been  effected,  in  a  great  degree,  by  stern 
denunciations  of  wrong  1  And  yet,  you  speak  as  if 
the  only  way  to  benefit  the  slaves  is  to  say  nothing 
about  their  wrongs,  but  assume  that  they  are  well 
enough  treated  already  !  Lord  !  what  reasoners  you 
are,  gentlemen !  " 

Here  the  stranger  again  tapped  the  pavement,  and 
partially  lowered  his  cloak  from  his  face. —  The  anti- 
Abolitionists  did  not  reply. 

"  By  the  word  of  Old  Hickory,  I  believe  Harry 
has  the  right  of  it,"  said  one  of  the  blacksmith's  lis 
teners.  "At  any  rate,  I  don't  relish  the  notion  — 
to  come  back  to  the  riot  —  of  having  our  citizens  trod 
under  foot  by  a  Boston  mob. —  I  don't  justify  Pep 
pery  in  all  he  says,  but  when  he  goes  up  to  our  Puri- 


THE  ABOLITIONISTS.  165 

tan  city  to  attend  a  meeting  of  his  party,  he  has  a 
constitutional  right,  I  think,  to  the  preservation  of 
his  limbs  and  ribs,  if  not  of  his  freedom  of  speech  ! 
They  might  have  bruised  the  Englishman  to  their 
hearts'  content,  and  I  should  have  had  nothing  to  say ; 
but  to  trample  a  fellow-citizen,  like  poor  neighbor 
Peppery  —  why,  the  ruffians  merit  the  whipping 
post  !  " 

"  Such  a  row  as  that  of  yesterday,"  said  the  black 
smith,  rearing  himself  aloft  for  another  speech,  "  is  a 
disgrace — an  eternal  disgrace  to  Boston,  and  to  the 
whole  North.  Not  altogether  because  a  few  men 
were  injured  and  a  few  women  abused,  but  because 
our  boasted  right  of  free  speech  was  violated.  This 
great  American  doctrine  was  shamelessly  disavowed, 
in  the  very  place  where  it  ought  to  have  been  held 
most  sacred,  and  that,  too,  before  and  against  an  Eng 
lishman  —  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  whom  we 
should  have  confessed  our  inability  to  support  our 
principle.  This,  gentlemen,  is  what  cuts  me  to  the 
quick :  The  thought  that  American  citizens  cannot 
bear  the  free  gaze  and  free  speech  of  mankind,  but 
must  resort  to  mob  force,  like  base  tyrants,  to  put 
down  plain-dealing  men ! 

"I  have  heard  men,  to-day,  apologizing,  every 
where,  for  this  ruffianly  outrage,"  continued  the  in 
dignant  blacksmith.  "I  have  heard  it  said  that 
Thompson  deserved  such  treatment,  and  much  worse, 
for  presuming  to  interfere  with  our  affairs, —  as  if  the 
whole  world  were  not  interested,  rightly  and  inevi- 


166  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

tably,  in  such  an  abomination  as  American  slavery ! 
I  have  heard  men  expatiate  on  the  sins  of  England, 
as  a  reproach  to  this  reformer  for  talking  about  ours, 
—  as  if  he  were  accountable,  as  an  individual,  for 
the  crimes  of  his  country  —  as  if  a  true  man  had  not 
the  right  to  speak  truth  in  all  places  and  before  all 
men  —  whoever  may  cringe  before  his  rebuke ! 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  justclear  your  sight  of  the  miser 
able  scales  of  prejudice  which  your  national  conceit 
has  hung  around  your  reason,  and  look  at  this  busi 
ness,  for  an  instant,  through  my  eye-glass  :  Here  is 
Mr.  Thompson  about  to  allege  against  us  certain 
sins,  and  to  exhort  us  to  repent  and  get  rid  of  them. 
Grant  that  our  self-constituted  monitor  belongs  to 
rather  an  ungracious  family, —  grant  that  he  is  sup 
posed  to  have  a  prejudice  or  so  against  us.  Is  there  any 
human  reason  why  we  should  not  hear  him  ?  If  he 
misstates  our  case,  here  we  are  to  set  him  right.  If  he 
accuses  us  wrongfully,  here  we  are  with  the  amplest 
opportunity  to  justify  ourselves.  But  if  he  puts  the 
case  exactly  as  it  is,  however  it  may  cut  our  self- 
esteem — if  we  are  actually  guilty  of  what  he  accuses 
us,  and  if  the  whole  universe  knows  that  we  are  — 
why  then,  gentlemen,  in  the  name  of  God,  what  is 
our  best  course  ?  Will  it  do  us  any  good  to  set  the 
dogs  on  this  plain-spoken  fellow,  and  so  drown  his 
voice  for  a  moment  in  a  beastly  bow-wow  7  Don't 
you  see  that  this  course  would  neither  help  us  to  get 
free  of  our  sins,  nor  induce  the  world  to  overlook  our 
guilt  ?  —  but  that  it  would  only  render  us  as  pusil- 


THE  ABOLITIONISTS.  167 

lanimous  as  we  are  criminal  1  And  yet  this  is  just 
the  course  which  our  Christian  and  intellectual  city 
of  Boston  saw  fit  to  pursue  towards  cousin  Thomp 
son  ;  and  here  you  are,  gentlemen,  giving  it  your  sanc 
tion  !  Lord !  we  are  not  a  whit  wiser  than  the 
Jews !  " 

The  effect  of  this  address  was  highly  creditable  to 
the  blacksmith.  The  men  had  no  reply  to  make, 
except  a  few  grumbling  evasions  and  petulant  exple 
tives,  uttered  by  the  more  bigoted  part. 

The  stranger  dropped  his  cloak  from  his  face,  and, 
advancing  to  Harry  Hanson,  said,  in  a  voice  modu 
lated  by  emotion : 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  my  dear  sir,  and  accept  my 
thanks  for  having  so  ably  vindicated  a  much-calum 
niated  cause.  Your  country  may  have  hope  in  its 
final  redemption  from  the  curse  of  slavery,  while  it 
can  boast  citizens  as  enlightened,  discriminating,  and 
just  as  yourself." 

"Lord!"  exclaimed  the  blacksmith,  yielding  his 
hand  mechanically  to  the  stranger,  and  regarding  him 
with  a  look  of  indescribable  amazement,  "  Lord  !  you 
here  ?  And  you  have  heard  my  egotistical  speech  1  ' ' 

' '  I  have  heard  nothing  but  what  you  may  be  proud 
for  having  said,"  returned  the  stranger,  with  superb 
politeness ;  then  he  added  — "  0,  brother  !  it  is  a  con 
solation  to  know,  that  there  are  men  of  kindred  hearts, 
both  in  America  and  in  England,  whom  the  Atlantic 
does  not  sever,  nor  national  antipathies  estrange,  but 
who  are  destined  to  labor  together  in  harmony  for  the 
common  freedom  and  glory  of  mankind." 


168  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

"  Nobly  said  !  "  cried  Harry  Hanson  ;  "  it 's  a  sen 
timent  I  respond  to  with  all  my  heart.  Long  may 
you  live  to  proclaim  it,  and  when  mobs —  " 

"Hush!"  interposed  the  stranger;  "  no  allusions 
to  that,  if  you  please.  Here  is  a  trifle  for  our  zeal 
ous  friend,  whose  misfortune  I  much  regret ;  will  you 
give  it  him?" 

But  the  blacksmith  declined  the  proffered  gold. 

"  None  of  that  from  you,"  said  he  ;  "  we  are  able 
to  take  care  of  our  own  destitute ;  I  will  see  that 
Peppery  wants  for  nothing.  Give  all  you  have  to 
those  whose  helpers  are  few." 

"Yours  is  a  noble  spirit,"  said  the  stranger,  with 
emotion;  '•'•your  pride  I  can  appreciate  and  honor. 
Adieu  !  "• 

"  Wait !  "  said  Harry  Hanson,  as  the  stranger  was 
moving  off;  and  he  addressed  to  him  some  question 
in  a  suppressed  voice. 

"  0,  be  under  no  concern,"  was  the  response  ;  "I 
am  not  friendless.  Again,  adieu  !  " 

And  the  unknown  man  moved  away,  and  disap 
peared. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  the  astonished  group,  looking 
from  each  other  into  the  thoughtful  face  of  the  black 
smith,  as  he  leaned  abstractedly  against  the  lamp 
post.  "  Who  is  that  complimentary  fellow  ?  " 

"  A  man  whose  acquaintance  I  made,  yesterday,  in 
Boston."  -• 

"  At  the  abolition  meeting?  " 

"Yes." 


THE   ABOLITIONISTS.  169 

"  You  witnessed  the  riot,  then?  " 

"  To  be  sure.     I  was  a  rioter  myself." 

"You?" 

"  Yes ;  the  Adam  got  the  better  of  me,  and  I  made 
a  very  silly  use  of  my  strength." 

"  What  did  you  do  ?" 

"  Knocked  several  very  ugly  fellows  down." 

"Did  you,  indeed?  You  must  have  been  very- 
much  provoked." 

"  So  I  was  :  they  were  trampling  Peppery 's  breath 
out  of  him  —  the  ruffians  !  " 

"Ah,  that  was  your  provocation.  So  it  was  you 
who  brought  Peppery  home  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  But  you  have  n't  told  us  who  this  strange  fellow 
is.  Was  he  a  rioter,  too?  " 

"No,"  returned  Harry  Hanson,  walking  thought 
fully  away ;  ' '  the  stranger  is  your  British  spy,  cousin 
Thompson." 

15 


XXI. 

OMENS. 

THERE  is  another  commotion  in  Bubbleton.  —  Poor, 
susceptible,  fractious,  whimsical,  misguided  Bubble- 
ton  !  Its  annals,  if  faithfully  written,  would  prove 
as  diverting,  I  presume,  as  —  the  most  improbable  ro 
mance.  But  I,  assuredly,  shall  not  become  its  annalist, 
beyond  an  allusion  to  those  events  and  persons  asso 
ciated  with  my  own  ministerial  experience. 

The  winter  has  been  marked  by  an  excess  of  dis 
sipation,  which  has  been  especially  fatal  to  young 
men.  Never  before  have  the  ravages  of  intemperance 
been  so  fearfully  great.  Its  alluring  agencies  are  in 
every  street, —  its  victims  are  in  every  class  of  society, 
—  its  scandals  touch  almost  every  home.  Those  who 
were  the  pride  and  hope  of  our  community,  are  being 
transformed  into  idiots  and  monsters. 

There  are  a  few  men  in  Bubbleton  who  calculate 
the  magnitude  of  the  vice, —  who  perceive  the  abyss 
into  which  it  is  bearing  us ;  and  who  hope,  with  God's 
help  and  their  own  Christian  efforts,  to  break  the  hor 
rible  enchantment  by  which  men  are  enthralled. 


OMENS.  171 

A  temperance  society  is  organized,  which  holds 
meetings  every  Sunday  evening  in  the  town  hall — 
provides  for  public  lectures,  and  institutes  a  system  of 
private  exertion  among  the  most  accessible  of  the 
fallen  people. 

It  is  naturally  expected  that  the  clergy  will  bear  a 
conspicuous  part  in  this  movement,  and  few  of  them 
seem  inclined  to  disappoint  the  expectation.  For  my 
own  part,  I  have  just  delivered  a  lecture  in  the  town 
hall,  which  is  very  fully  reported  in  the  Biibbleton 
Gazette,  and  violently  assailed  in  the  Morning 
Neics. —  The  attack  is  written  by  a  correspondent  of 
that  journal,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  recognize  in  its 
tone,  the  rancor  of  personal  enmity  and  the  bias  of 
private  interest. 

About  this  time,  it  .is  authentically  announced  to 
all  interested  persons,  that  my  late  much-abused 
parishioner,  Robert  Fiscal,  has  taken  seats  in  the 
Plush-street  Church. 

Within  that  haven  of  sanctity  he  is,  doubtless,  des 
tined  to  find  peace ;  for  the  Rev.  Mr.  Downy  will 
not  enlist  for  the  temperance  campaign,  nor  connect 
his  placid  personality  with  any  of  the  agitating  ideas 
of  reform. 

Indeed,  so  long  has  that  conciliatory  minister 
devoted  himself  to  the  consideration  of  the  sins  of 
Babylon,  that  his  mind  recurs,  with  the  impulse  of 
habit,  to  those  historical  abominations,  whenever  he 
proceeds  to  arrange  his  pulpit  batteries ;  and  he  is 
favored  with  as  delightful  an  unconsciousness  of  the 


172  BUBBLETON   PAKISH. 

modern  and  local  iniquity  of  Bubbleton,  as  the  inhab 
itants  of  another  planet.  He  is  a  kind  of  archaeolo 
gist  of  sin, —  accustomed  to  dig  into  the  cold  lava-beds 
and  ancient  petrifactions  of  evil,  and  to  explore  the 
obstructed  labyrinth  of  antiquity,  for  vestiges  of  the 
passions  that  made  their  burning  sign,  and  cooled  in 
death,  so  many  centuries  ago  ! 

Besides  my  lecture  at  the  town  hall,  I  have  had 
some  plain  discourse  from  the  pulpit,  with  the  young 
&B&  of  my  congregation,  in  reference  to  their  habits, 
temptations,  perils,  and  responsibilities. 

This  effort  has  been  variously  received,  and  warmly 
discussed,  by  the  parish.  Half  a  dozen  candid  and 
thoughtful  youths,  with  several  aged  hearers,  come 
and  thank  me  for  my  counsel.  Old  Silas  Willet  is 
tearful  and  tremulous  as  he  expresses  his  gratification. 

Others  take  a  different  view  of  the  matter.  Young 
gentlemen  of  the  Cyrus  Thistleblow  stamp  are  restless 
and  indignant.  They  feel  themselves  insulted  by  the 
supposition  that  they  can  be  in  danger.  They  dislike 
to  hear  one  portray  the  course  of  dissipation  —  the 
fatal  retrogression  of  character, —  because  it  sharpens 
their  sense  of  criminality.  It  is  as  though  they  had 
been  observed  in  their  disreputable  haunts,  and  were 
being  exposed  to  the  censure  and  contempt  of  manly 
honor.  They  accuse  the  preacher  of  impertinence. 
They  stigmatize  such  lectures  as  "  personal."  They 
know  what  they  are  about,  and  will  not  brook  the 
dictation  of  "  croaking  ministers."  The  Cyrus  Thistle- 
blow  order  is  august,  with  its  unexceptionable  broad- 


OMENS.  173 

cloth,  and  fine  white  linen,  and  irreproachable  gloves, 
and  other  transient  upholstery  of  accomplished  cox 
combry.  If  a  poor,  inexperienced  minister  dares  dis 
compose  such  imperial  equanimity,  by  assuming  that 
it  has  anything  to  do  with  the  abstractions  of  moral 
ity,  or  the  claims  of  enterprising  and  noble  manhood, 
let  him  awake  to  a  sense  of  his  temerity  when  he  finds 
himself  grandly  deserted,  and  hears  of  a  new  inun 
dation  of  popularity  at  the  Plush-street  Church  ! 

The  parish  committee  are  in  the  deeps  of  trouble. 
They  are  convinced  that  such  independence  and  plain 
speaking  will  never  be  tolerated  in  the  society.  The 
minister  must  concede  something  —  a  compromise 
must  be  effected  —  or  dissension  and  ruin  will  ensue. 

Already  several  families  have  withdrawn,  in  great 
resentment  at  my  course  —  most  of  them  being  inter 
ested  in  that  fatal  trade  which  is  the  source  of  all  this 
mischief.  The  congregation  is  reduced  to  about  half 
its  original  numbers,  for  the  "  novelty- seekers,"  who 
comprised  a  large  proportion  of  my  hearers  during 
the  first  few  months,  have  found  a  new  object  of  inter 
est  and  are  attracted  elsewhere. 

I  have  had  another  conversation  with  Mr,  Arling 
ton. 

He  retains  his  gracious  amiability  and  dignified 
courtesy ;  but  intimates  —  with  frequent  sighs  —  his 
regret  that  I  should  so  severely  interpret  my  duty, 
and  his  fears  that  I  shall  not  be  sustained  by  the  par 
ish.  He  is  much  grieved  by  the  disaffection  of  the 
Thistleblows,  for  it  depends  very  much  upon  their 
15* 


174  BUBBLETON    PA1USH. 

favor  whether  we  ' '  take  a  leading  position ' '  among 
the  genteel  ranks  of  Bubbleton. 

Mr.  Arlington  does  not  sympathize  with  the  tem 
perance  reform.  True,  he  holds  that  downright 
drunkenness  is  wrong,  because  it  is  vulgar ;  but  good 
liquor,  discreetly  used,  is  one  of  the  blessings  of  Prov 
idence, —  it  graces  hospitality,  gives  zest  to  friendship, 
and  refreshes  the  dry  waste  of  business; — he  disputes 
the  wisdom  and  the  possibility  of  banishing  it  from  the 
social  board.  The  temperance  men  may  be  honest, — 
he  presumes  most  of  them  are, —  but  they  are  not 
acquainted  with  human  nature,  and  their  idea  —  like 
other  reform  ideas  of  the  day  —  is  preposterous  and 
fanatical. 

Miss  Arlington  has  ceased  attending  church  alto 
gether.  I  seldom  meet  her  now,  for  my  calls  at  her 
home  are  not  frequent,  and  she  mingles  scarcely  any 
with  the  society.  Indeed,  there  is  little  pleasure  in 
meeting  her,  for  her  countenance  is  a  painful  study — 
her  character  a  profound  enigma ;  and  still,  such  is 
the  fascination  of  the  mystery  that  envelops  her,  I 
find  her  monopolizing  more  of  my  time  than  I  am 
willing  to  devote  to  psychological  reveries. 

To  increase  the  gloom  of  my  prospect,  my  salary 
remains  in  arrears,  and  I  am  compelled  to  contract 
debts. 

A  new  source  of  torment !  No  words  in  our  capa 
cious  language  express  an  idea  of  misery  so  profound 
as  these  brief  definitives  —  IN  DEBT. —  Here  is  the 
essence  of  dependence,  slavery,  anxiety,  fear,  servility 


OMENS.  175 

—  indeed,  of  every  element  of  human  suffering,  except, 
perhaps,  remorse.     If  I  owe  a  man,  I  seem  to  have 
sold  myself,  and  my  creditor  appears  to  possess  an 
indefinable,  vast,  and  altogether  horrible  control  over 
me. —  I  avoid  him,  with  a  ridiculous  kind  of  feeling 
that  resembles  guilt, —  no  rogue  can  be  more  solic 
itous  of  walking  clear  of  the  man  he  has  robbed  !     If 
I  must  meet  him,  it  is  with  the  timidity  of  a  dog  that 
has  been  flogged.     I  seem  to  be  immeasurably  below 
him, —  I  meanly  concede  his  superiority, —  I  defer  to 
his  most  palpable  stupidities.     I  feel  as  though  his 
favor,  somehow,  made  my  sunshine,  and  I  dread  his 
resentment  —  as   I   do   the   rise  of  flour  and  coal. 
Then  I  am  always  scheming  to  emancipate  myself 
from  this  terrible  fellow.     I  hoard  money  like  a  miser, 
and  live  like  a  hermit,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  buy 
my  freedom.     And  when,  at  last,  I  do  get  my  liberty 

—  for  I  always  pull  at  the  chain  till  it  breaks  —  I 
feel  something  like  an  impulse   to   abuse   my  late 
tyrant,  by  way  of  exhibiting  my  independence  ! 

I  cannot  do  justice  to  the  annoyances  and  persecu 
tions  which  my  debts  in  Bubbleton  occasioned  me. 

I  will  observe,  however,  that  I  was  indebted  for  the 
most  serious  of  my  troubles,  to  the  vigilant  watch-care 
and  ingenious  devices  of  Mr.  Fiscal.  With  an  admir 
able  promptness,  and  in  a  manner  that  elicited  no 
suspicion,  this  gentleman  bought  most  of  the  demands 
against  me,  and  enjoyed  the  satisfaction  of  compelling 
me  to  settle  with  himself. 

And  I  must  needs  affirm,  in  justice  to  Mr.  Fiscal's 


176  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

positive  character,  that,  while  he  was  susceptible  of 
great  generosity  in  his  friendship,  he  was  capable  of  a 
publican's  extortion  in  his  antipathy. 

But  let  me  not  dwell  too  long  upon  these  unhappy 
recollections.  Nor  let  my  readers  suppose  that  I  was 
destitute  of  friends  and  supporters.  There  were  many 
in  the  parish  who  approved  my  course,  and  were  ready 
to  make  sacrifices  for  the  support  of  an  independent 
ministry.  The  reform  ideas  had  penetrated  the  con 
servative  crust  of  the  society,  and  were  gradually 
changing  its  temper  and  opinions. 

Two  angry  and  excited  parties  were  approaching 
each  other  from  the  extreme  sections  of  the  parish. 


XXII. 

A   REVIVAL   SCENE. 

WHILE  our  affairs  were  in  this  threatening  and 
dubious  posture,  a  most  exciting  "revival"  was  in 
progress  in  one  of  the  neighboring  churches. 

At  the  period  of  which  I  am  writing,  these  famous 
meetings  were  electrifying  many  of  the  Congregation- 
alist  churches  throughout  New  England.  A  flame 
of  religious  enthusiasm  was  kindled  in  the  community. 
Sectarian  zeal  was  enacting  another  crusade.  The 
world  was  to  be  converted  by  a  storm  of  fanaticism. 

The  experience  of  twenty  years  has  not  confirmed 
the  wisdom  of  that  experiment.  The  disastrous  effects 
of  the  revival  system  are  now  pretty  generally  con 
fessed.  It  may  be  safely  affirmed,  I  think,  that 
American  Christianity  suffers  to  this  day  —  in  the 
estimation  of  a  respectable  class  of  community  —  not 
only  from  the  errors  that  were  propagated  during 
those  exciting  scenes,  but  from  the  reaction  of  that 
overstrained  feeling  and  morbid  exertion  which  they 
induced.  It  is  as  unwise  to  overtask  the  religious 
sensibilities,  as  to  exhaust  the  mental  or  bodily  powers. 


178  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

Nature  demands  reparation  for  every  kind  of  excess. 
Why  should  we  expect  a  frequent  recurrence  of  the 
Day  of  Pentecost  1  It  is  not  the  aim  of  Providence 
to  develop  the  Christian  life  in  the  soul  by  a  succes 
sion  of  spasms.  It  is  a  growth  —  not  to  be  realized, 
or  even  favored,  by  tumultuous  excitement,  frantic 
appeals  to  fear  and  selfishness,  awful  threatenings  and 
terrific  alarms  —  but  secured  under  the  conscious 
shelter  of  Divine  Love,  in  the  calm  discourse  of  rea 
son"  in  the  serenity  that  unveils  the  heart  to  the 
renovating  light  and  blessed  harmonies  of  the  uni 
verse. 

The  revivals  to  which  I  allude,  may  be  symbolized 
by  the  dark  wrath  of  hurricanes,  that  leave  ruin 
moaning  on  their  track,  and  prepare  the  waste  for 
briers  to  grow  and  dragons  to  inhabit.  But  pure 
religion  has  its  symbol  in  the  peaceful  shining  of  the 
sun,  that  wins  forth  the  inherent  beauty  of  Nature, 
and  clothes  the  world  in  the  garniture  of  Praise. 

God's  process  —  whether  surveyed  in  the  imper 
ceptible  movement  of  constellations,  or  in  the  renova 
tion  of  a  human  being  —  is  gradual,  orderly,  sub 
lime. 

His  renewing  influences  descend  "  like  the  small 
rain,  and  distil  like  the  dew."  His  kingdom  cometh 
not  with  observation. 

For  why  should  a  tumult  like  the  tramp  of  armies, 
herald  the  reign  of  Him  we  call  the  Prince  of  Peace  1 

But  to  resume  the  narrative  : 

It  was  a  night  in  March  that  I  was  returning  from 


A   REVIVAL   SCENE.  179 

the  house  of  a  -parishioner,  whom  I  had  visited  in 
severe  affliction. 

My  course  lay  directly  by  Dr.  Screamer's  large 
church,  where  the  revival  was  being  conducted. 
Although  it  was  past  the  hour  of  ten,  the  meeting 
still  continued.  The  building  was  evidently  thronged, 
for  the  shadows  of  figures,  standing  erect  against  the 
upper  tier  of  windows,  darkened  the  ample  sweep  of 
the  galleries ;  and  a  crowd  of  men  filled  the  porch,  or 
•were  crammed  together  in  the  three  outer  doorways. 
The  voice  of  the  preacher  —  shrill  and  hoarse  —  with 
frequent  groans  of  conviction,  and  cries  of  sudden 
terror,  and  shouts  of  approval,  from  the  excited  audi 
ence  —  rang  fearfully  into  the  still  ear  of  night. 

There  was  a  fascination  about  the  place  that  made 
me  pause,  and  that  drew  my  steps  to  the  thronged 
entrance. 

The  porch-lamps  glared  dim  and  ghastly  upon  that 
compact  mass  of  beings,  and  the  breath  of  the  dense 
crowd  that  filled  the  vast  interior  of  the  edifice,  issued 
from  the  narrow  apertures  furnished  by  the  half  ob 
structed  doors,  in  a  rank,  hot,  and  sickening  steam. 

It  was  horrible  to  think  of  the  infatuated  multitude 
thus  wedged  within  this  fatal  church,  and  breathing 
this  abominable  atmosphere,  charged  thick  with 
death  ! 

I  had  barely  secured  a  footing  upon  the  outer 
threshold,  before  I  was  thrilled  by  a  piercing,  pro 
tracted  shriek. 

It  was  a  man's  voice  —  loud,  harsh,   and  awful 


180  BUBBLBTON    PARISH. 

beyond  anything  I  had  ever  heard.  It  had  a  certain 
rude  and  prolonged  vehemence  that  indicated  great 
physical  strength,  and  reminded  one  of  the  despairing 
cry  of  a  wild  beast,  rather  than  of  any  strictly  human 
utterance  of  woe. 

I  instantly  perceived  that  the  men  around  me  were 
powerfully  agitated  by  the  occurrence. 

They  pressed  forward  toward  the  inner  doors,  and 
tried  to  look  over  the  heads  of  the  intervening  throng. 

"Is  it  he?"  they  demanded,  in  subdued  but  fran 
tic  whispers,  reaching  over  and  clutching  the  clothes 
of  those  who  stood  within. 

"  A  judgment !  — behold,  a  judgment  of  God  !  " 
was  thundered  from  the  lips  of  the  preacher. 

All  eyes  were  directed  toward  the  pulpit,  in  strange 
consternation.  The  multitude  about  the  central  aisle 
began  to  sway  to  and  fro,  and  I  heard  the  shuffle  of 
many  feet,  mingled  with  hoarse  cries  of  "  Amen ! 
glory  to  God  !  A  judgment !  —  a  judgment !  " 

Again  was  heard  that  fearful  shriek,  but  lower, 
fainter  than  before  —  as  if  life  itself  were  departing 
from  the  poor  wretch. 

Then  dbwn  the  aisle  ran  the  cry  —  almost  vindic 
tive  in  its  wild  fervor  — 

"  It 's  a  judgment !  —  a  judgment  from  Almighty 
God  on  the  scoffer  !  " 

The  confusion  increased  within  the  church;  but 
over  all,  the  shrill  voice  of  the  preacher  was  distinctly 
audible,  though  his  form  was  not  visible  to  me,  for  he 
had  left  the  pulpit,  and  stood  exhorting  by  the  altar. 


A   REVIVAL   SCENE.  181 

At  length  I  beheld  —  urging  his  course  madly 
through  the  compact  throng,  and  moving  his  arms  like 
a  swimmer  in  his  efforts  to  reach  the  door — the  large, 
scarred  figure  of  an  old  man,  who  had  been  shown  to 
me  in  the  streets,  not  long  previous,  as  Sharkey,  the 
smuggler;  and  who,  as  my  readers  may  recollect, 
was  known  to  be  a  very  liberal  supporter  of  the  Plush- 
street  minister. 

I  saw,  in  the  distortion  of  his  features,  and  in  the 
wild  terror  of  his  look,  the  revelation  of  sudden 
insanity. 

The  awe-struck  crowd  gave  way  as  fast  as  the 
scanty  space  would  allow ;  and,  like  one  marked  by  the 
curse  of  Heaven,  the  old  man  rushed  forth  into  the 
night. 

"Was  ever  a  judgment  more  manifest?"  exclaimed 
one,  gazing  solemnly  after  the  fugitive. 

Then  I  learned  that  old  Sharkey  had  laid  a  wager 
that  he  would  enter  the  crowded  church,  and  profane 
ly  defy  the  revivalist  before  the  altar ;  and  that,  in 
pursuance  of  this  reckless  intention,  he  had  encoun 
tered  the  fierce  anathema  of  the  preacher,  and,  smitten 
by  sudden  repentance  or  superstitious  fear — had 
fallen  to  the  floor  with  a  shriek  of  madness.* 

It  was  evident  that  the  revivalist  realized  the  ad 
vantage,  which  such  an  incident  was  calculated  to 
furnish  him. 

His  voice  took  an  imperious  tone.     The  threaten- 

*  Several  of  my  readers  can  verify  the  truth  of  this  incident. 

16 


182  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

ings  he  announced  became  more  and  more  authorita 
tive.  Terrors  multiplied  around  his  agitated  brow. 

A  desire  seized  me  to  behold  the  man  who  swayed 
these  hundreds  at  his  will,  and  detained  them  within 
these  horrible  walls  at  the  risk  of  suffocation. 

The  gallery  offered  the  only  chance  of  gratifying 
my  wish.  With  great  exertion  I  reached  the  stairs. 
Here,  as  elsewhere,  there  was  a  dense,  hot  throng. 
Step  by  step,  I  made  the  wearisome  ascent,  and,  press 
ing  through  the  door  that  opened  on  the  gallery,  the 
immense  magnitude  of  the  audience  rose  before  me 
with  startling  effect. 

But  admiration  was  not  the  emotion  that  made  my 
sight  swim  and  my  brain  whirl. 

It  was  fear,  consternation,  at  the  vile,  putrid  heat, 
that  rose  —  a  dense,  intolerable  malaria  —  from  those 
unconscious  victims.  Already  hundreds  seemed  as 
torpid  as  so  many  figures  of  lead.  In  a  few  minutes 
more,  as  it  seemed  to  my  excited  fancy,  they  would 
have  been  corpses. 

A  thrilling'  dizzy  sense  of  the  danger  darted 
through  me  in  an  instant.  Without  clearly  realizing 
what  I  was  doing  —  so  sudden  and  imperious  was  the 
impulse  that  seized  me  —  I  made  my  way  to  the  front 
of  the  gallery,  and  shouted  with  all  my  voice : 

"People!  are  you  mad?  You  are  all  dying  of 
suffocation !  Open  the  windows,  and  clear  the 
house ! " 

Of  course,  this  was  very  presumptuous,  but,  at  that 


A   REVIVAL   SCENE.  183 

instant,  it  seemed  only  the  dictate  of  duty  —  as,  in 
deed,  I  still  think  it  was. 

"  Yes  !  "  echoed  the  revivalist,  glancing  up  at  me 
with  a  fierce  gesture,  "you  are  all  mad  —  mad  with 
the  folly  of  the  world  !  —  and  suffocating, —  yes,  with 
hell  fire  !  Open  the  windows  ?  —  ah  !  the  windows 
of  heaven,  that  you  may  have  grace  to  repent !  " 

The  man  was  frantic,  and  I  did  not  wonder  at  it. 

But  the  fatal  spell  was  broken, —  the  people  rose 
with  a  new  terror, —  they  began  to  appreciate  their 
peril.  There  was  a  tumultuous  rush  for  the  door. 

Alas  !  in  giving  my  hasty  alarm,  I  had  not  thought 
of  this  danger.  Would  they  now  trample  each  other 
to  death,  to  reward  me  for  my  interference  ? 

Leaning  over  the  gallery,  I  shouted  and  expostu 
lated  ;  but  I  might  as  well  have  addressed  a  whirl 
wind. 

And,  as  my  gaze  settled  upon  the  scene,  embracing 
with  mute  horror  all  its  details,  I  distinguished  one 
figure  struggling  in  the  abyss,  that  brought  a  cry 
from  my  lips  and  a  keen  pang  to  my  heart. 

It  was  Miss  Arlington ! 


XXIII. 

MISS  ARLINGTON. 

THIS  discovery  thrilled  my  heart,  for  it  bore  an 
alarming  conviction  to  my  understanding. —  It  sup 
planted  one  anxiety  by  another;  and  I  forgot  the 
danger  which  had  just  occupied  all  my  thoughts  in 
relation  to  the  assembly,  in  the  new  train  of  fears  that 
suddenly  possessed  me  at  the  sight  of  my  friend. 

Why  was  Miss  Arlington  in  this  church,  and  amid 
this  fanatical  throng?  Considering  the  seriousness 
of  her  disposition,  her  peculiar  spiritual  experience, 
and  the  recent  anxieties  which  had  appeared  to  sad 
den  her  mind,  it  was  not  probable  that  any  frivolous 
motive  —  like  the  idle  curiosity  that  actuates  the 
thoughtless  —  could  have  influenced  her  attendance 
at  this  meeting.  No,  her  feet  had  turned  within  these 
gates,  in  her  earnest  search  for  truth  and  conviction. 

Awakened,  as  it  were,  by  some  spiritual  current 
that  throbbed  in  the  air,  and  finding  herself,  lonely, 
on  the  waste  of  doubt  and  mystery,  famished  by  want, 
tantalized  by  illusions,  beaten  by  the  elements,  awed 
by  immensity, —  the  young  pilgrim  had  summoned  all 


MISS   ARLINGTON.  185 

her  latent  resolution,  and,  directing  her  course  by 
such  stars  as  the  driving  storm-clouds  unveiled,  was 
now  seeking  to  escape  from  that  barren  realm,  into 
some  land  of  plenty  and  some  city  of  refuge.  Alas  ! 
that  on  the  frontier  of  scepticism  —  taking  a  glad 
farewell  of  its  baleful  shapes  —  the  fainting  pilgrim 
should  plunge  into  the  vortex  of  superstition,  or  be 
lured  to  the  sacrifice  of  reason,  by  the  semblance  of 
religion  and  the  hope  of  rest ! 

I  remembered  that  Miss  Arlington  had  ceased  to 
attend  her  father's  church,  about  the  time  this  revival 
commenced ;  and  it  was  something  nobler  than  secta 
rian  antipathy,  I  believe,  that  made  me  shudder,  as  I 
thought  of  the  influence  which  these  meetings  were 
liable  to  have  exerted  over  her  mind,  in  this  critical 
stage  of  her  experience. 

Perhaps  her  ardent  and  serious  nature  —  aspiring 
toward  the  grand  and  awful  realities  which  faith  pre 
sents  —  might  have  kindled  in  instant  sympathy  with 
the  lofty  and  devout  passions  that  swayed  these  agi 
tated  assemblies. —  Perhaps  she  had  become,  already, 
a  zealot  and  —  a  wreck  ! 

These  apprehensive  thoughts  —  however  I  may 
have  elaborated  them  in  this  record  —  occurred  to  me 
the  very  moment  I  saw  Miss  Arlington  involved  in 
that  terrified  congregation. 

To  spring  to  her  rescue,  was  alike  the  impulse  of 
manliness  and  of  friendship.  But  to  leave  the  gallery 
by  the  way  I  had  entered  it,  was  no  longer  a  practi 
cable  achievement,  owing  to  the  mass  of  people  that 
16* 


186  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

were  crowded,  tumultuously,  upon  the  stairs ;  and  I 
was  compelled  to  accept  the  less  decorous  expedient 
of  vaulting  over  the  railing. 

The  whole  church  was  a  scene  of  uproar  and  terror. 

The  nature  of  the  meeting  —  the  appalling  ideas  on 
which  the  revivalist  had  dwelt,  and  the  signal  retri 
bution  that  had  smitten  the  scoffer,  had  excited  the 
feelings  of  the  people  beyond  the  control  of  reason, 
and  made  them  doubly  susceptible  to  the  panic  of 
sudden  alarm.  They  rushed  upon  each  other  with 
the  frenzy  of  maniacs  ;  —  men  shouted  and  struggled 
—  women  screamed  and  fainted ;  and  a  few,  whose 
zeal  had  entirely  eclipsed  their  perceptions,  sang  and 
prayed,  like  saints  in  the  last  ecstasy  of  martyrdom ! 

Dropping  into  this  dangerous  abyss,  I  was  fortu 
nate  enough  to  reach  the  object  of  my  anxiety,  just 
as  she  fell,  exhausted,  in  the  midst  of  the  mad  throng. 

A  favorable  movement  of  the  crowd  enabled  me  to 
rescue  her  without  much  difficulty,  and  to  place  her 
in  the  recess  of  a  window,  quite  out  of  danger. 

Then  I  forced  up  the  sash,  and  —  assuming  the 
privilege  of  the  coolest  head  in  the  house  —  expostu 
lated  with  the  people,  and  began  to  ventilate  the  place. 

Gradually  a  passage  was  opened  through  the  clotted 
doorways,  and  the  eager  multitude  filed  out.  The 
cries  and  the  frenzy  abated, —  the  score  of  the  weak 
and  helpless  that  had  fainted  were  borne  homeward, — 
while  the  low  groans  of  a  few,  who  thus  expressed  the 
injuries  they  had  received,  imparted  an  air  of  tragic 


MISS  ARLINGTON.  187 

solemnity  to  this  fearful  consummation  of  the  even 
ing's  service. 

When  Miss  Arlington  recovered  her  consciousness, 
she  recognized  me  with  an  exclamation  of  painful  sur 
prise,  and  involuntarily  averted  her  face, —  a  move 
ment  that  confirmed  the  saddest  apprehensions  I  had 
felt  for  her. 

"You  have  saved  me,"  she  murmured,  with  her 
face  still  turned  from  me,  and  speaking  in  a  much- 
agitated  voice;  — "you  have  saved  my  reason  —  per 
haps  my  life.  I  did  not  know  you  were  here,  till  I 
heard  your  voice  from  the  gallery. —  Then  I  hoped 
you  might  not  see  me ;  for,  0  !  I  think  —  I  fear  I 
must  have  been  mad,  almost  delirious  !  But  I  thank 
you,  Mr.  Chester, —  it  is  strange  that  you  should 
have  been  here." 

She  confesssd  that  I  had  saved  her  reason, —  that 
she  had  been  almost  delirious  !  She,  then,  had  sat  in 
the  fatal  thrall  of  that  sombre-hearted  enchanter. 
Even  her  strong  intelligence  and  practical  sense  had 
not  been  able  to  resist  the  terrific  images,  and  frantic 
appeals,  that  had  leaped  and  glared  from  his  lurid 
rhetoric.  Her  expressions  still  evinced  the  disorder 
into  which  her  mind  had  been  thrown. 

"Calm  yourself,"  said  I;  "shake  off  the  baleful 
influence  of  this  place,  and  let  your  better  judgment 
control  you." 

"No,"  said  she,  speaking  with  her  customary  ab 
straction  of  manner,  "  this  can't  be  the  spirit  of  God 


188  BUBBLETON   PAEISH. 

• —  this  can't  be  truth ;  for  if  it  were  —  0,  it  were 
better  never  to  feel  the  one,  or  behold  the  other  !  " 

And  she  shuddered,  as  if  beholding  some  ghastly 
spectacle. 

' '  Dear  friend  !  the  solemn  questionings  of  a  trou 
bled  spirit  and  of  a  generous  mind,  meet  with  but  a 
rude  response  from  such  proselyting  fanatics,"  said  I, 
deeply  moved  by  the  anguish  she  betrayed;  "and 
may  God  avert  from  you  another  trial.  But  we  may 
now  leave  the  church.  Shall  I  conduct  you  home?" 

"Yes,  let  me  leave  this  place,"  she  answered, 
quickly;  "I  cannot  be  myself  here ;  0,  what  a  dream 
it  has  been  !  " 

We  passed  down  the  aisle,  where  a  remnant  of  the 
crowd  still  lingered. 

A  tall,  dark  man,  his  face  half-muffled  in  his  cloak, 
stood  regarding  us  by  the  outer  door  through  which 
we  passed.  It  needed  not  the  tremor  that  agitated 
my  companion,  to  assure  me  that  this  was  the 
revivalist. 

I  had  seen  him  two  years  before  —  under  circum 
stances  that  I  need  not  now  describe ;  but  not  until 
this  night  had  I  known  who  it  was  that  conducted 
this  promising  revival ! 

"Miss  Arlington,  have  you  often  attended  these 
meetings  ?  "  inquired  I,  after  we  had  left  the  church. 

There  was  some  severity  in  my  tone,  I  suppose,  for 
my  mind  had  recurred  to  a  distant  scene. 

"Don't  be   angry  with  me,  Mr.  Chester,"  she 


MISS  AKLINGTON.  189 

answered,  half-reproachfully  ;  "I  have  been  —  too 
often  —  0,  far  too  often  !  " 

•''Have  you  spoken  with  this  man — this  preacher?  " 

"Certainly  not." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

"You  speak  as  though  he  were  known  to  you ;  is 
it  so?" 

"He  is  known  to  me  but  too  well.  Miss  Arling 
ton,  need  I  counsel  you  to  avoid,  hereafter,  the  altar 
at  which  he  ministers? " 

She  did  not  immediately  reply,  but  the  ,hand  that 
rested  on  my  arm  trembled. 

"I  am  safe,  henceforth,  from  such  danger,"  she 
answered  at  length ;  "  but  you  intimate  that  this  man 
is  unworthy —  is  not  sincere." 

"  That  is  what  I  would  say,  since  it  is  needful  that 
you  should  know  it ;  though  I  frankly  admit  that  I 
might  not  be  able  to  prove,  here  in  Bubbleton,  what 
I  assert." 

My  companion  sighed ;  it  was  partly  a  sigh  of 
relief  —  partly  of  regret. 

Presently  she  murmured,  as  if  communing  with 
herself,  rather  than  addressing  me  — 

"  So  it  has  ever  been  through  all  this  weary  search 
for  faith.  Comfortable  professions,  but  no  sincerity 
—  no  consistent  earnestness.  Or,  if  I  find  the  ardor 
and  the  devotion  I  had  hitherto  sought  in  vain  —  the 
awful  zeal  that  seems  to  correspond  with  the  sublimity 
of  such  realities —  I  hear,  at  once,  that  this  is  but  the 
profane  art  of  an  accomplished  actor,  and  that  what 


190  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

has  thrilled  and  terrified  me  like  the  voice  of  a  God, 
is  only  brazen  impudence  or  gifted  hypocrisy  !  0  ! 
is  it  thus  that  I  am  ever  to  be  deceived  and  humili 
ated  ?  —  trusting,  one  by  one,  all  the  pretences  of 
faith,  and  finding  them  worthless !  —  searching  the 
peopled  world  in  vain,  for  evidence  that  God  is  actu 
ally  acknowledged  among  men  ! " 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  pathos  —  the  sub 
dued,  but  profound  grief — with  which  these  words 
were  pronounced.  They  penetrated  my  heart  like  a 
dirge,  and  so  desolate  did  they  represent  her  soul, 
that  I  could  find  no  language  adequate  to  answer  her. 

Meantime  we  reached  her  father's  house. 

"Miss  Arlington,"  said  I,  detaining  her,  and  mas 
tering  my  emotion,  "I  compassionate,  though  I  may 
not  appreciate,  your  unhappy  experience.  I  am  not 
surprised  that  you  estimate  my  instructions  so  cheap, 
for  you  need  a  wiser  guide  than  I  to  lead  you  through 
this  labyrinth.  No ;  do  not  interrupt  me, —  I  ask  no 
explanation.  I  am  but  a  young  man,  little  versed  in 
the  intricate  mazes  of  the  human  heart,  or  in  the  sub 
tle  processes  of  the  understanding.  I  fear  that  I  have 
not  the  power  to  disenthrall  a  mind  like  yours  of  the 
dreary  doubts  that  subvert  its  peace, —  since  those 
doubts  appear  to  have  grown  with  the  growth  of  your 
nature,  and  to  have  diffused  themselves  into  the  very 
texture  of  your  reason.  But  my  office  is  that  of  a 
comforter  and  a  friend.  Whatever  my  poor  resources 
may  avail,  they  are  freely  devoted  to  you.  Shall  I 
visit  you  to-morrow,  and  place  them  at  your  service  ? 


MISS   ARLINGTON.  191 

Remember,  0,  my  friend  !  that  in  primitive  days,  the 
simplicity  and  loving  zeal  of  Christians  exorcised  the 
demons  that  defied  all  the  ingenuity  of  the  wise." 

She  was  silent ;  her  hand  rested  more  heavily  upon 
my  arm,  as  if  her  strength  were  failing. 

The  wintry  moon,  riding  high  in  the  bleak  heavens, 
emerged,  for  an  instant,  from  a  mass  of  drifting 
clouds,  and  flung  its  sudden  radiance  across  my  com 
panion's  face. 

How  pale  —  how  deathly  —  how  desolate  it  was  ! 

In  that  instant,  a  feeling,  hitherto  undefined  —  a 
sensation,  which  had  long  haunted  the  borders  of  my 
heart,  without  being  discriminated  or  understood  — 
became  clear,  and  made  itself  acknowledged. 

It  was  an  impulse  of  unwonted  and  mysterious  ten 
derness,  that  made  me  bend  over  that  pale  and 
afflicted  face,  and  whisper  — 

"0.  Miss  Arlington !  confide  in  my  friendship,  if 
not  in  my  wisdom ;  let  me  console  your  heart,  if  I 
cannot  liberate  your  mind  !  " 

She  struggled  to  recover  herself,  but  it  was  no  calm 
voice  that  answered  me. 

"  I  do  confide  in  your  friendship,  Mr.  Chester,  and 
in  your  wisdom, —  0,  you  know  not  how  much  !  You 
are  kind,  very  kind ;  and.  0  !  — I  thank  you." 

"  And  shall  I  come  to-morrow? " 

"  Alas  !  no ;  it  could  not  be.  Thank  you. —  good 
night." 

There  were  tears  in  her  voice. 


192  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

"  Wait,  Miss  Arlington  !  "  I  exclaimed ;  "  I  do  not 
understand  you." 

"I  mean — 0,  forgive  him,  Mr.  Chester! — I 
mean  —  that  my  father  is  no  longer  your  friend. 
And  I  would  not  have  you  cross  this  threshold  to 
serve  me,  however  wretched  I  may  be  !  —  Good-by  ! 
but  never  think  that  I  —  can  forget  —  your  kindness, 
or  esteem  you  less." 

She  vanished  within  the  rich  man's  door ;  and  when 
it  closed  with  its  dull  clang,  and  I  heard  the  bolt 
shoot  into  its  socket,  it  seemed  to  enclose  —  not  her 
—  but  me — in  a  solitude  that  precluded  converse  — 
in  a  dungeon,  from  which  light  and  hope  fled  away. 

I  turned,  listlessly,  into  the  silent  street,  where  the 
lamps  seemed  to  burn  like  tapers  in  a  sepulchre. 

The  dull,  cold  clouds  had  again  eclipsed  the  wintry 
moon.  The  wind  breathed  its  dirge-like  notes, —  a 
dreary  accompaniment  to  my  fresh  memories,  and  the 
wail  of  hopes  too  dear  to  live  ! 

My  solitary  tread  along  the  stony  pavement,  seemed 
less  audible  than  the  beating  of  my  heart ;  and  the 
gloom  of  the  overclouded  firmament,  less  oppressive 
than  the  polar  darkness  that  settled  on  my  spirit. 


XXIV. 

HOW   I   AM   COMFOKTED. 

THE  next  day,  it  appeared  that  the  scene  at  Dr. 
Screamer's  church  was  making  a  sensation.  It  was 
a  precious  crumb  for  the  gossipping  mice  to  nibble. 
There  were  almost  as  many  versions  of  the  transac 
tion  as  there  have  been  critics  on  Shakspeare,  and 
they  displayed  a  marvellous  ingenuity  of  dissent  that 
might  have  qualified  their  authors  for  distinction  in  a 
more  erudite  field. 

As  I  had  anticipated,  I  found  myself  very  dis 
agreeably  connected  with  the  affair.  My  enemies 
prepared  at  once  to  make  the  most  of  my  involuntary 
act,  and  certain  members  of  Dr.  Screamer's  society, 
—  who  were  too  much  excited  to  observe  or  re 
member  the  actual  state  of  the  case,  or  too  bigoted 
to  desire  to  render  me  justice  —  zealously  seconded 
their  efforts ;  and  the  report  soon  became  nearly  cur 
rent,  that  I  had  maliciously  "  broken  up  "  the  revival 
meeting ! 

Certain  edifying  scandal  was  retailed  in  connec- 
tion  with  this  charge,  in  order  that  it  might  be  duly 
17 


194  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

flavored  for  all  sorts  of  appetites ;  and  thus,  within 
twelve  hours,  I  was  ticketed  for  as  much  notoriety  as 
any  decent  mortal  can  covet ! 

What  did  I  do  in  justification  of  myself? 

Two  things : 

First,  I  wrote  a  card,  explaining  my  actual  con 
nection  with  that  disastrous  service,  to  be  inserted 
in  the  Morning  News  and  the  Bubbleton  Gazette. 

Secondly,  I  addressed  a  note  to  the  revivalist.  It 
was  brief — pertinent  —  imperative.  And  the  very 
next  evening,  to  the  surprise  of  everybody  except 
myself,  that  obliging  individual  publicly  vindicated 
me  from  all  blame,  as  regarded  the  catastrophe  of 
the  previous  night;  and,  moreover,  bore  the  most 
emphatic  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  my  character 
— a  step  in  the  amende  honorable  from  which  I  could 
have  excused  him,  it  being  a  service  which  I  could 
not  reciprocate ! 

While  occupied  by  these  interesting  proceedings, 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  a  new  acquaint 
ance,  in  the  person  of  one  who  bade  fair  to  exercise 
that  noble  virtue  we  call  PATIENCE,  in  no  inconsider 
able  degree. 

It  was  a  large,  cumbrous  sort  of  a  man,  very 
languid  in  his  movements,  with  a  hopeless,  leaden 
expression  of  countenance,  and  a  doleful,  drawling 
utterance,  that  forewarned  you  of  infinite  affliction. 

He  introduced  himself  as  Mr.  Saturnine  Glum, 
—  informed  me  that  he  was  a  widower,  with  four 
daughters,  "all  more  or  less  diseased," — that  he 


HOW  I  AM   COMFORTED.  195 

had  been  the  most  unhappy  of  men  during  the 
greater  part  of  his  life, —  that  he  had  recently  moved 
to  Bubbleton,  where  he  hoped  to  secure  a  living  as 
an  apothecary, —  and,  lastly  (to  my  horror),  that  he 
proposed  connecting  himself  with  my  congregation. 

"I  hear,"  pursued  Mr.  Saturnine  Glum,  with  the 
simplicity  of  a  master  of  torture,  "  that  the  society  is 
getting  badly  divided,  and  that  most  of  the  people  are 
getting  dissatisfied  with  you ;  but  that  does  n't  pre 
vent  me  from  making  choice  of  your  church,  for  my 
spiritual  home.  I  'm  used  to  trouble  and  trial,  sir ;  I 
was  born  for  it, —  I  was  reared  in  it,  and  I  expect 
little  else  until  I  shake  off  this  mortal  coil,  as  the 
Psalmist  says !  " 

Mr.  Glum  paused,  sighed,  coughed,  lifted  up  his 
eyes  devoutly,  and  then  continued  : 

"You  will  be  glad  to  secure  a  sympathizing  and 
intelligent  friend,  Mr.  Castor — " 

"Chester,  if  you  please,"  suggested  I,  correcting 
him. 

"Ah,  yes  —  as  I  was  saying  —  you  will  be  glad 
of  a  friend  in  the  parish,  at  this  unhappy  period, 
who  can  sympathize  with  you,  and  counsel  you, 
and  keep  you  informed  of  the  general  state  of 
affairs!" 

I  was  speechless. 

1 '  I  have  had  a  very  wide  acquaintance  among 
ministers,"  pursued  Mr.  Glum,  in  his  most  doleful 
tone  —  as  if  it  were  a  confession  fitted  to  wring  one's 
heart  — "  and  I  have  usually  found  them  among  the 


196  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

most  miserable  of  men,  surrounded  by  trouble  and  trial, 
like  myself !  But  I've  always  made  it  a  solemn  duty 
to  console  and  counsel  them  —  poor  servants  of  an 
ungrateful  world  !  —  as  I  hope  to  console  and  counsel 
you." 

In  this  strain,  Mr.  Glum  continued  to  comfort  me 
for  about  an  hour. 

At  last  he  arose,  and  slowly  prepared  to  take  leave. 
Halting  at  the  door,  however,  he  added : 

•CI  haven't  heard  you  preach,  yet,  Mr.  Castor, 
but  I  hope  I  shall  like  you  —  it 's  such  a  consolation 
to  like  a  minister  !  I  trust  you  're  a  right  solemn, 
Gospel  preacher, —  one  that  makes  men  feel  how 
wicked  the  world  is,  how  full  of  vanity  and  vexation 
all  things  are  here  below,  and  how  desirable  it  is  to 
sleep  the  sleep  of  the  grave !  —  Very  comforting 
thoughts  are  these,  Mr.  Castor,  and  highly  becoming 
a  young  minister  to  indulge  !  Well,  we  shall  all  be 
in  church,  next  Sunday,  if  our  lives  are  spared  — 
me  and  my  four  daughters  —  (all  more  or  less  dis 
eased)  —  and  very  likely  I  may  send  up  a  request 
for  prayers.  One  likes  to  hear  one's  minister  pray 
for  the  broken-hearted ;  it 's  so  pathetic  and  dreary- 
like  !  " 

Pausing,  again,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  look 
ing  back  at  me  with  his  leaden  eyes,  he  groaned  out 
this  piece  of  intelligence  : 

"  I  've  a  very  large  collection  of  melancholy  narra 
tives,  describing  the  most  heart-rending  accidents  and 
the  most  cruel  murders  on  record  !  I  will  lend  it  to 


HOW  I   AM    COMFORTED.  197 

you,  it  gives  such  a  true  picture  of  the  world,  and  is 
so  convenient,  moreover,  to  illustrate  Gospel  sermons. 
Well,  good-by,  Mr.  Castor,  you  will  see  me  often,  I 
dare  say  ! ' ' 

And,  at  last,  he  actually  went. 
17* 


XXV. 

THE   NIGHT-WALK. 

ALL  through  the  day  succeeding  the  catastrophe  at 
Dr.  Screamer's  church,  and  that  last  sad  conference 
with  Miss  Arlington,  my  heart  was  darkened  by  the 
shadow  of  some  impending  sorrow,  whose  nature  I 
tried  in  vain  to  define  and  anticipate.  The  troubles 
which  had  already  revealed  themselves  —  the  web  of 
vexatious  cares  in  which  I  was  actually  involved  — 
appeared  trivial  in  comparison  with  what  my  heart 
foreboded. —  I  adopted  the  measures  I  have  described 
in  the  last  record,  with  the  regularity  and  precision 
of  mechanism,  for  they  did  not  employ  enough  anxiety 
to  flurry  the  feelings  or  agitate  the  judgment.  My 
real  concern  was  elsewhere,  flowing  deep  and  dark 
beneath  all  I  did  or  said. 

Even  that  promising  acquaintance,  Mr.  Saturnine 
Glum,  did  not  wholly  withdraw  my  mind  from  its 
mournful  abstraction,  or  divest  my  fancy  of  the  som 
bre  images  with  which  it  played.  Mr.  Glum's  indi 
viduality  was  bold  and  prominent,  but,  at  that  par 
ticular  time,  my  own  mental  scenery  was  too  deeply 


THE   NIGHT-WALK.  199 

shaded  to  become  a  foil  to  his  otherwise  conspicuous 
qualities.  Doubtless  the  death's  head,  that  the  wise 
Egyptians  permitted  to  appear  at  their  feasts,  was  im 
pressive  enough,  as  it  grinned,  satirically,  upon  the 
revellers;  but,  cast  upon  a  hecatomb  of  death's  heads. 
it  would  have  secured  but  very  little  notice.  (The 
discerning  and  charitable  reader  will  make  the  most 
of  this  heathenish  figure ;  Mr.  Saturnine  Glum,  and 
his  relations,  are  responsible  for  it ! ) 

As  regards  my  private  interest  in  Miss  Arlington, 
I  do  not  intend  troubling  my  readers. —  At  least,  it  is 
my  desire  to  confine  what  must  be  said  on  that  sub 
ject,  to  as  narrow  a  compass  as  possible.  If  I  have 
indiscreetly  intimated,  in  some  of  the  preceding  pages, 
more  than  a  man  in  my  position  ought  to  have  con 
fessed.  I  will  now  assume  a  double  armor  of  prudence, 
and  —  to  the  disappointment  and  confusion  of  the 
young  people  of  Scandalburgh  —  rule  out  all  the  love 
matters  from  this  serious  history :  that  is,  so  far  as 
the  predestined  and  inevitable  action  of  two  or  three 
characters  renders  it  practicable  ! 

I  have  good  cause  for  believing  that  certain  light- 
minded  persons,  who,  by  a  privilege  of  friendship, 
have  looked  over  my  shoulder  while  I  was  writing, 
have  anticipated  more  than  they  will  realize,  in  con 
sequence  of  having  assumed  that  I  do  business  with 
the  same  species  of  capital  employed  by  those  tran 
scendental  novelists,  of  whom  most  young  persons 
know  quite  as  much  as  they  ought.  Let  all  such  be 
forewarned,  and  betake  themselves  to  more  promising 


200  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

reading ;  and  let  them  reflect  by  the  way,  how  much 
I  should  suffer,  in  the  opinion  of  the  grave  and  judi 
cious,  did  I  suffer  the  placid  current  of  my  narra 
tive  to  swell  into  the  furious  and  turbid  stream  of 
romance. 

But  all  this  —  as  unsophisticated  readers  may  ven 
ture  to  think  —  is  a  little  foreign  from  the  matter  in 
hand.  It  is  the  fault  of  those,  however,  who  have 
seen  fit  to  speculate,  prematurely,  about  the  issue  of 
this  trustworthy  story. 

I  now  resume : 

Towards  evening  —  still  burdened  by  the  mysteri 
ous  sense  of  approaching  calamity  —  I  left  my  cham 
ber,  and  sauntered  forth  into  the  town.  I  felt  myself 
the  object  of  a  general,  and  by  no  means  flattering, 
notice,  for  my  explanations  were  not  yet  published, 
and  I  had  not  then  been  vindicated  from  Dr.  Scream 
er's  pulpit.  Still,  it  was  not  the  offensive  notice  I 
was  conscious  of  eliciting  that  troubled  me  —  I  felt  a 
quiet  resentment  and  scorn  of  that  so  self-assuring 
as  to  give  me  little  anxiety ;  but  my  mental  vision 
was  painfully  scanning  the  horizon  of  probability,  in 
hope  of  discerning  what  manner  of  evil  it  was  whose 
portentous  shadow  made  itself  felt  so  vividly. 

Half  unconsciously,  my  steps  took  the  direction  of 
Mr.  Arlington's  store.  I  entered.  That  accom 
plished  gentleman  —  whom  I  was  no  longer  to  con 
sider  my  friend  —  was  not  there.  .  He  had  been  absent 
since  nine  o'clock.  His  eldest  son,  who  gave  me  this 
information,  was  so  curt  and  frigid  in  his  manners 
that  I  felt  little  inclination  to  prolong  the  call. 


THE  NIGHT-WALK.  201 

Something  had  evidently  happened. 

Again  in  the  street,  the  first  person  I  recognized 
was  Robert  Fiscal.  With  a  mock  courtesy  and  a  sar 
donic  smile,  he  touched  his  hat,  and  moved  triumph 
antly  by.  How  significant  that  look  and  gesture 
were ! 

I  paused  at  one  of  the  corners,  for  an  instant,  to 
collect  myself. 

The  Athenaeum  was  near,  and  thither  I  directed 
my  course.  The  only  person  I  found  there  was  Harry 
Hanson. 

At  sight  of  me,  the  good  blacksmith  elevated  both 
his  hands  and  his  voice. 

"Lord!  "  he  exclaimed,  using  his  habitual  ejacu 
lation,  "Mr.  Chester,  I  was  just  thinking  of  you. 
How  do  you  stand  it?  " 

And  he  wrung  my  hand  in  the  most  friendly  man 
ner. 

"Stand  what,  Mr.  Hanson?"  I  asked,  a  little 
absently. 

"Why,  the  blow  they're  making  about  the  part 
you  took  in  the  revival  meeting  last  night ;  —  of  course 
you've  heard  of  it  1  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  have  taken  means  to  correct  the  mis 
apprehensions  of  people,  as  regards  that ;  it  will  do 
me  no  real  damage." 

"  I  'm  right  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  Mr.  Chester, 
for  I  had  began  to  fear  that  —  between  the  gossips, 
the  bigots,  and  the  knaves  of  our  delectable  commu 
nity —  you  might  find  it  hard  to  make  headway. 


202  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

Lord,  sir !  to  tell  truth  and  shame  the  devil,  I've  felt 
a  deal  of  concern  for  you,  this  many  weeks,  for  it 's 
generally  understood  that  the  pulpit  you  occupy  is 
about  the  most  slippery  place  this  side  of  the  Glaqiers. 
And,  ever  since  that  terrible,  terrible  night  you  went 
with  me  through  the  storm  to  visit  poor  Bill  Gorman, 
I  've  had  a  liking  for  you,  stronger  than  I  feel  for 
most  of  the  other  gentlemen  of  the  cloth.  And  then, 
Bill's  poor  widow  and  the  little  girl  —  how  beautifully 
they  talk  about  you  ! —  you  ought  to  hear  how  grate 
ful  they  are;  and  even  Peppery  —  brave,  snarling 
little  Peppery  —  grows  a  bit  softened  toward  you,  I 
think  !  Well,  I  guess  you  '11  weather  the  gale,  after 
all ;  but,  Lord  !  you  don't  look  very  confident  of  the 
game,  do  you?  " 

And  the  blacksmith  —  who  had  stood  earnestly 
wringing  my  hand,  during  the  last  minute — suddenly 
changed  his  tone  and  expression,  and  stared  at  me 
with  the  most  commiserating  look. 

I  tried  to  reassure  him,  however,  and  thanked 
him,  warmly,  for  the  friendly  sentiments  he  had  ex 
pressed. 

"I  '11  tell  you  what  I  have  done,"  said  Harry  Han 
son,  recovering  his  vivacity;  "  I  have  just  been  and 
joined  your  parish." 

"  Ah  !  have  you,  indeed'?  I  'm  very  much  grati 
fied  by  hearing  it,  Mr.  Hanson." 

"  Yes  ;  it 's  a  new  step  for  me,  though  —  I  have  n't 
had  much  to  do  with  churches,  here  in  Bubbleton. 
They  foster  a  religion  that  I  don't,  somehow,  under- 


THE    NIGHT-WALK.  203 

stand  or  respect.  The  fashion  of  religion  has  changed, 
amazingly,  Mr.  Chester,  since  I  was  a  boy  and  learned 
the  Lord's  Prayer  from  my  mother's  lips ;  but  I  must 
say  that  I  like  the  old  fashion  the  best  —  only  as  re 
gards  a  few  doctrines,  where  I  think  some  of  you 
liberals  have  made  an  improvement, —  for  I  never 
could  see,  even  when  a  child,  how  religion  was  made 
any  more  attractive  by  hitching  on  so  many  scare 
crows,  and  torture-chambers,  and  hell-flames,  and 
such  like.  Well,  as  I  said.  I'm  coming  to  your 
church,  at  a  venture." 

"  I  hope  you  will  see  no  cause  to  regret  the  step." 

"  I  hope  I  shan't ;  but,  Lord  !  it's  all  your  doing, 
Mr.  Chester,  after  all ;  and  if  I  can  serve  you,  I 
know  I  shan't  regret  it." 

I  thanked  him  again. 

"  Lord  !  "  exclaimed  the  blacksmith,  his  face  light 
ing  up  with  sudden  emotion,  "  it  would  never  do  for 
'me  to  be  a  minister;  I  should  always  be  blowing 
somebody  up  !  —  I  couldn't  be  imposed  upon,  as  most 
of  you  seem  to  be. 

"Now,  I've  got  a  poor  devoted  cousin,  down  in 
Connecticut,"  he  continued,  "  who  works  harder  than 
any  man  in  his  parish  for  the  meagre  salary  of  four 
hundred  dollars,  and  even  part  of  this  sum,  I  believe, 
is  paid  in  onions  !  I  paid  him  a  visit,  last  summer, 
and  so  got  some  knowledge  of  his  affairs.  He  has  a 
frugal  wife,  who  exhausts  her  ingenuity  in  trying  to 
clothe  her  seven  children,  as  he  exhausts  his  in  devis 
ing  means  to  feed  and  educate  them.  Yet  I  found  that 


204  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

the  parish  grumbled  a  great  deal,  because  my  cousin 
and  his  wife  did  not  visit  more.  They  live  in  a 
wretched  shell  of  a  house,  where  the  rain  pours  into 
every  room ;  but  the  parish  think  that  it  is  all  their 
minister  ought  to  desire.  The  poor  fellow's  salary  is 
always  in  arrears  —  meagre  as  it  is, —  and  yet  I  know 
three  of  his  parishioners  who  are  accumulating  prop 
erty  at  the  rate  of  two  thousand  dollars  a  year. —  He 
is  often  called  to  the  distance  of  twenty  miles  to  attend 
somebody's  funeral,  and,  nine  cases  in  ten,  is  obliged 
to  bear  his  own  expenses,  besides  incurring  a  cold  that 
disables  him  for  several  days,  and,  it  may  be,  prevents 
his  preaching  the  next  Sunday.  Such  a  case  hap 
pened  while  I  was  there,  and,  Lord  !  how  the  parish 
fretted  !  and  how  they  wondered  that  my  cousin  had  n't 
more  endurance  !  Zounds  !  how  I  wanted  to  preach 
to  them  myself;  and,  indeed,  I  would  but  for  my 
poor  cousin's  remonstrance  !  " 

I  remembered  a  few  cases  equally  aggravating,  but 
was  not  in  a  mood  to  name  them. 

Thanking  the  blacksmith  once  more  for  the  kind 
interest  he  had  shown  in  my  welfare,  and  feeling  very 
deeply  gratified  by  the  "step  "  he  had  taken,  I  obeyed 
the  restless  spirit  that  possessed  me,  and  betook  my 
self  again  to  the  streets. 

It  was  now  nearly  dark.  The  lights  began  to  ap 
pear  in  the  street-lamps  and  in  the  shops.  A  country 
man  —  who  had,  apparently,  spent  the  day  in  traffic, 
and  had  not  made  the  best  use  of  his  gains  —  was 
driving  furiously  along  in  his  market  wagon,-  lashing 


THE   NIGHT-WALK.  205 

his  team,  and  singing  a  rude  song.  A  pair  of  Italian 
minstrels  —  then  rare  enough  to  be  considered  novel 
ties  in  Bubbleton  —  tramped  wearily  by  with  their 
baize-covered  organ,  followed  by  a  tumultuous  army 
of  excited  and  wondering  boys.  A  group  of  politi 
cians  stood  beneath  a  grocer's  awning,  angrily  discuss 
ing  President  Jackson's  treatment  of  the  United 
States  Bank.  A  pale  and  sickly  young  clerk,  with  a 
cough  on  his  lungs,  and  a  great  deal  of  foppery  in  his 
dress,  was  issuing  from  a  house  to  execute  his  night's 
task ;  and  an  anxious,  care-worn  woman  was  standing 
in  the  door,  exhorting  him  to  be  careful  of  his  health, 
and  to  come  home  as  soon  as  the  store  should  be 
closed. 

How  distinctly  I  remember  all  these  things,  asso 
ciated  as  they  are  with  the  thrilling  experience  of 
that  night ! 

I  walked  on  —  scarcely  conscious  whither  —  until 
I  found  myself  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mr.  Arling 
ton's  house. 

Just  then,  the  sudden  stroke  of  a  bell  sounded  over 
the  city.  It  came  from  the  lofty  tower  of  Dr. 
Screamer's  church,  summoning  the  people  to  prayer 
and  propitiation.  With  what  an  imperative  and  ter 
rific  voice,  that  solitary  herald  —  speaking,  with  its 
iron  tongue,  through  the  dark  and  wintry  air  — 
seemed  to  address  the  frivolous  and  mercenary  town  ! 
To  my  sensitive  ear,  it  assumed  every  tone  that  can 
thrill  and  agitate  a  human  heart.  It  was  first  a 
solemn  proclamation, —  spoken  loud,  and  free  to  the 
18 


206  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

listening  night.  Then  it  persuaded,  entreated,  with 
softening  notes  that  lingered,  melodiously,  on  the  ear. 
Then  it  warned,  with  accents  of  growing  severity  and 
earnestness.  From  warnings,  it  mounted  into  denun 
ciations  —  thundered  forth  rapid  and  wrathful,  as  if 
bursting  from  the  lips  of  an  incensed  divinity, —  such 
imperious  indignation  as  might  almost  startle  the 
guilty  dead  !  And  then,  it  seemed  to  change,  once 
more,  and  assume  a  dirge-like  lamentation,  as  it  hung, 
sighing  and  mourning,  on  the  air :  and  Why  will  ye 
die  ?  —  why  will  ye  die  ?  was  henceforth  the  hurden 
of  the  bell's  low,  despairing  cry. 

I  pensively  approached  Mr.  Arlington's  dwelling, 
walking  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  and  trying 
in  vain  to  determine  why  I  was  there  at  all. 

A  horse  and  chaise  stood  at  the  door,  and  while  I 
was  trying  to  identify  them,  their  owner  appeared  on 
the  threshold,  and  I  recognized  the  leading  physician 
of  Bubbleton.  Mr.  Arlington  had  accompanied  him 
to  the  door,  and  detained  him  for  a  few  minutes  on 
the  steps.  The  rich  man  stood  in  dressing-gown  and 
slippers,  and  the  expression  of  his  face,  as  it  was  re 
vealed  by  the  light  of  the  hall-lamp,  was  severe  and 
serious. 

"  The  greatest  prudence  is  necessary,  and  time  only 
can  determine  the  result,"  were  the  ambiguous  words 
of  the  physician,  as  he  entered  the  chaise,  and  drove  off. 
Mr.  Arlington  softly  closed  the  door,  and  disappeared. 

"No  longer  my  friend!"  murmured  I,  almost 
aloud ;  and  what  a  mysterious  melancholy  there  was 


THE  NIGHT-WALK.  207 

in  the  thought.  And  still  the  bell  moaned  through 
the  wintry  air  —  as  if  forbidden  to  change  that  plain 
tive  tone  —  Why  will  ye  die  ?  —  why  will  ye  die  ? 

Trouble  had  invaded  the  home  of  the  worldly,  epi 
curean  Christian,  and  I  trembled  to  think  who  was 
its  probable  messenger. 

Scanning  the  ample  face  of  the  mansion,  I  per 
ceived  that  it  was  not  illuminated  as  usual.  Only  a 
single  ray  of  light  shone  from  the  spacious  parlors, 
whose  obscurity  was  contrasted  with  the  splendors  of 
those  in  the  adjoining  building,  where  a  gay  party 
was  being  given,  and  from  which  came,  frequent  and 
free,  the  sounds  of  laughter  and  music.  One  cham 
ber  alone  in  the  afflicted  house,  gave  token  of  occu 
pancy.  There  the  light  stole  softly  through  the  closely- 
drawn  curtains,  and  figures  were  seen  moving  to  and 
fro,  with  the  cautious  and  solemn  air  of  spectres. 
Within  that  solitary  room  were  concentrated  the  sym 
pathies  and  anxieties  of  the  household  ;  and  to  whom 
that  chamber  was  appropriated  I  knew  but  too  well ! 

I  stood  motionless  on  the  sidewalk,  gazing  up  at 
those  windows  past  which  the  dim  figures  glided,  and 
feeling  the  cruelty  of  the  fate  that  debarred  me  from 
their  sad  company.  I  stood  —  waiting,  I  believe,  for 
the  beating  of  my  heart  to  subside,  or  for  some  de 
finite  purpose  to  appear  from  the  chaos  of  my  feelings 
and  thoughts. 

I  remember  that  many  people  passed  —  hurried  on 
by  their  various  impulses  and  pursuing  their  different 
objects  —  and  that  some  of  them  paused,  and  gave  me 


208  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

an  inquiring  stare ;  but  these  things  scarcely  diverted 
my  attention  an  instant  from  the  gloomy  house,  with 
its  saddening  memories  and  its  thrilling  suggestions. 

It  was  not  long  ere  the  door  was  again  opened,  and 
a  female  figure  came  forth,  and  moved  rapidly  down 
the  street.  I  soon  overtook  this  person,  whom  I  ad 
dressed,  in  as  firm  a  tone  as  I  could  command  : 

"Miss  Lark,  can  you  tell  me  what  has  happened 
at  Mr.  Arlington's?" 

The  sentimental  young  lady  screamed  at  the  first 
sound  of  my  voice  —  (after  the  nervous  manner  of 
the  old-story  heroines,  only  not  terrific  enough  to 
have  brought  any  one  to  her  rescue)  —  and  then 
paused  and  looked  at  me,  with  a  mingling  of  grief 
and  wonder. 

"0,  Mr.  Chester  !  don't  you  know?"  she  ex 
claimed. 

"'Know  what?  I  have  heard  nothing — seen  no 
one ;  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

1 '  Why  that  she  is  ruined  —  mad  —  dying  !  0  my 
poor,  dear  friend  !  " 

And  the  tears  choked  the  poor  girl's  voice,  and 
gushed  over  her  face  in  a  shower  of  grief. 

I  did  not  speak, —  I  scarcely  breathed,  the  throb 
bing  of  my  heart  was  so  loud  and  fierce ;  and  into  my 
brain  leaped  such  a  torrent  of  blood  that  I  felt  dizzy 
and  blind. 

' c  And  you  know  nothing  of  this  !  why,  your  name 
has  been  upon  her  lips,  dear,  proud  girl !  in  her 
delirium — " 


THE    NIGHT-WALK.  209 

"  Stop,  Miss  Lark  !  "  cried  I,  between  anger  and 
a  mad,  hopeless  joy;  "you  are  not  aware  what  you 
say ;  —  never  repeat  those  words,  as  you  love  your 
friend !  " 

And  I  left  her. 

In  an  instant  later,  I  was  standing  by  Mr.  Arling 
ton's  threshold,  which  I  was  never  more  to  pass  as  a 
friend.  I  rang  —  gently,  as  I  thought, —  but  my 
hand  was  agitated,  and  the  report  of  the  bell  came 
sharp  to  my  ear,  like  a  voice  shrill  with  rage  and 
wrong. 

A  servant,  to  whom  I  was  well  known,  admitted 
me,  after  a  long  delay.  I  asked  for  Mr.  Arlington, 
and  walked  into  the  parlor  that  was  lighted  by  the 
solitary  taper.  Its  faint  beams  fell  full  upon  a  large 
mirror,  which  startled  me  by  the  haggard  image  it 
reflected. 

I  sat  down,  and  attempted  to  reduce  my  wild  sen 
sations  to  order.  But  the  murmur  of  voices  above 
swept  over  my  heart  like  a  storm.  My  nature  was 
adrift,  and  no  longer  obeyed  the  helm  of  reason. 

Meantime  the  minutes  flew  —  my  request  was  not 
answered, —  I  was  still  alone.  At  last,  a  step  was 
audible  on  the  stairs, —  the  servant  appeared  —  with 
a  note.  I  read  it,  at  a  glance, —  crumpled  it  in  my 
nervous  grasp, —  and,  pressing  down  the  gushing  ten 
derness  and  the  sunny  hope,  left  thus  the  house  which 
had  been  first  to  welcome  me,  on  my  arrival  in  Bub- 
bleton. 

No,  in  the  rich,  affable,  and  influential  merchant, — 
18* 


210  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

in  the  comfortable,  compromising,  yet  imperious  par 
ishioner  —  I  had  no  longer  a  friend.  And  yet,  never 
had  the  friendship  of  this  man  appeared  half  so  pre 
cious  as  now,  when  all  hope  of  regaining  it  was  aban 
doned  : 

For  when  Selfishness  pleads  in  the  name  of  Love, 
in  the  enchanted  temple  of  our  Youth,  how  hard  it  is 
to  perform  the  vow  we  have  made  to  God,  and  hold 
our  upward  course,  serene  and  true ! 


XXVI. 

A   SYMPATHIZING   VISITOK. 

IN  reviewing  the  last  record,  I  have  grown  a  little 
apprehensive,  lest  the  more  critical  of  my  readers 
may  have  discerned  a  flaw  in  the  resolution,  so  gra 
tuitously  avowed,  only  a  few  pages  back.  "  Did  you 
not  promise  to  abstain  from  all  details  of  merely  pri 
vate  interest?"  I  fancy  some  irritable  Uncle  Roland 
demanding ;  ' '  and  did  you  not  voluntarily  pledge 
yourself  to  rule  out  all  love  matters  from  your  his 
tory  ?  How  well  you  have  kept  your  word  with  us, 
let  those  readers  judge  who  have  read  the  last  half- 
dozen  pages."  This  Uncle  Roland  we  will  suppose 
to  have  spent  all  the  leisure  hours  of  a  long  life  in 
reading  the  most  intolerable  fictions ;  and  an  author 
can  pardon  some  irritability  and  tartness  in  one  whose 
credulity  has  so  often  betrayed  him.  "  Now,  a  cler 
gyman,"  puts  in  Uncle  Roland,  argumentatively, 
"  ought  to  fulfil  his  pledges  before  all  other  men," 
&c.  At  the  end  of  which  hornily,  some  sententious 
American  Caxton  —  snuffing  the  classic  air  of  Cam 
bridge —  will  add,  with  a  gesture  of  faultless  pro- 


212  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

priety,  "  Fidelity  is  the  crowning  virtue  of  the  histo 
rian."  And  the  result  will  be,  that  a  prejudice  will 
be  conceived  against  me,  at  this  interesting  stage  of 
my  narrative,  unless  I  shelter  myself  behind  the  ensu 
ing  paragraph : 

Be  it  known,  then,  that  the  pledge  so  confidently 
adduced  against  me,  is  so  equivocally  worded  as  to 
admit  of  two  contrary  meanings,  either  of  which  may 
be  assumed,  according  to  the  whim  or  interest  of  the 
author !  This  delightful  art  of  ' '  paltering  in  a 
double  sense ' '  —  though  represented  by  the  great 
dramatist  as  being  practised  by  rather  a  disreputable 
class  of  persons  —  has  been  rendered  eminently  re 
spectable,  in  our  day,  by  the  example  of  a  large  num 
ber  of  disinterested  politicians,  who  have  found  it 
highly  convenient  in  satisfying  the  anxieties  of  their 
constituents. 

If,  therefore,  I  have  raised  expectations  which  it  is 
not  convenient  or  possible  to  gratify,  with  respect  to 
the  course  of  this  history,  I  shall  take  refuge  from 
the  shafts  of  censure  within  this  mighty  national 
precedent,  and  so  pursue  my  task  unscathed. 

The  scenes  last  described  occurred  on  Friday  even 
ing. 

It  was  not  until  a  week  from  the  ensuing  Sunday 
that  I  again  saw  Mr.  Arlington,  or  heard  more  than 
vague  rumors  from  his  family. 

I  shall  describe,  later,  under  what  circumstances  I 
again  met  the  rich  parishioner,  and  relate  what  ensued 


A  SYMPATHIZING   VISITOR.  213 

upon  that  meeting.  At  present,  I  must  allude  to 
some  intervening  transactions. 

The  next  Sunday  —  as  I  had  anticipated  —  proved 
an  exciting  day.  My  card  had  been  published,  and 
my  vindication  had  been  pronounced  in  Dr.  Scream 
er's  church.  There  was  a  reversion  of  public  feeling 
in  my  favor,  which  was  not  without  its  influence  upon 
the  parish.  It  encouraged  my  friends  —  perhaps 
multiplied  them  out  of  the  ranks  of  the  indifferent  — 
and  embittered  my  enemies.  The  church  was  thronged, 
during  both  services  —  strangers  forming  a  large  con 
tribution  to  the  audiences.  Never  was  it  the  fortune 
of  a  preacher  to  address  less  devout  assemblies.  I 
was  not  heard  as  a  minister  of  Christ,  but  as  a  man 
of  eventful  fortunes,  who  had  provoked  the  gossip  of 
community,  and  acquired  a  sudden  notoriety.  A  sad, 
leaden  consciousness  of  this  fact  weighed  down  my 
spirits,  and  rendered  the  labor  of  the  day  a  painful, 
monotonous  task. 

The  two  recent  acquisitions  to  the  parish  —  Harry 
Hanson  and  Saturnine  Glum  —  attended  these  ser 
vices.  The  latter  was  accompanied  by  his  valetudina 
rian  daughters,  who,  by  the  by,  did  not  exhibit  the 
sickly  appearance  I  had  been  led  to  anticipate,  but 
appeared  as  fresh  and  healthful  as  any  girls  I  knew. 
Dispirited  and  gloomy  as  my  mind  was,  that  day,  I 
thought  it  not  unlikely  that  I  might  secure  the  apoth 
ecary's  approval.  In  this  trivial  expectation,  I  was, 
however,  disappointed ;  for  he  spoke  to  me  as  I  was 
quitting  the  church,  in  the  afternoon,  and  said  he 


214  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

was  sorry  not  to  have  heard  "  one  of  those  Goapel 
lamentations  on  the  folly  of  life  and  the  desirableness 
of  death,  which  are  so  gratifying  to  the  bereaved 
soul !  " 

"  Have  patience,  0  Saturnine  Glum  !  "  thought  I, 
with  bitter  emotion ;  "  perhaps  I  may  yet  realize  your 
expectations  —  if  I  remain  in  Bubbleton  !  " 

It  was  one  evening,  during  that  week,  that,  return 
ing  from  a  visit,  about  eight  o'clock,  I  found  a  stranger 
waiting  for  me  in  the  study.  —  He  was  a  small, 
thoughtful-looking  man,  apparently  about  thirty-five 
years  of  age.  His  countenance,  as  I  soon  discovered, 
was  susceptible  of  a  great  variety  of  expressions,  but 
that  which  appeared  most  habitual  was  a  kind  of  cyn 
ical  melancholy,  that  betrayed  the  perversion  of  a 
nature,  originally  far  above  the  ordinary  level  of 
human  excellence. 

He  introduced  himself  as  the  editor  of  an  anti- 
slavery  newspaper,  recently  commenced  in  one  of  the 
New  England  cities.  He  was  now  canvassing  the 
country  for  subscribers,  and  —  having  a  few  friends  in 
Bubbleton,  and  hearing  that  I  was  not  inimical  to  the 
cause  —  he  had  called  to  make  my  acquaintance  and 
secure  my  support. 

"  How  do  you  like  Bubbleton?"  demanded  the 
visitor,  after  he  had  stated  his  business,  and  I  had 
promised  him  my  assistance. 

I  gave  him  to  understand,  in  a  few  words,  that  my 
attachment  to  Bubbleton  was  not  of  the  most  ardent 
nature. 


A   SYMPATHIZING  VISITOR.  215 

Looking  at  me,  keenly,  as  I  spoke,  he  rejoined, 
•with  an  impetuosity  then  quite  unaccountable  : 

"Ah!  I  see  how  it  is;  the  reaction  has  com 
menced  ;  the  mine  is  being  sprung, —  you  won't 
remain  with  this  parish  a  year  :  —  to  your  credit  be 
it  said." 

"  You  know  the  parish,  I  should  infer,"  said  I. 

' '  Yes ;  no  man  can  know  it  better ;  I  have  made 
its  acquaintance  to  my  sorrow,  and  to  the  sorrow  of 
those  dearest  to  me." 

"  You  have  lived  in  Bubbleton?" 

' '  Yes.  as  pastor  of  your  parish :  my  name  is  Strin 
gent  !  " 

I  grasped  my  predecessor's  hand,  and  thanked  him 
for  the  pleasure  I  derived  in  seeing  him. 

Brother  Stringent  was  affected  to  tears  by  my  cor 
diality. 

"  Ah,  Brother  Chester,"  said  he,  "  you  receive  me 
as  a  brother  in  misfortune :  I  am,  indeed,  a  weary, 
disappointed  man ;  and  you,  young  as  you  are,  hold 
the  key  to  all  my  weariness  and  disappointment.  Let 
us  sit  here,  in  the  light  of  your  evening  fire,  and  talk 
it  over." 

As  he  spoke  thus,  all  that  was  harsh  and  cynical 
in  his  look,  or  voice,  vanished  away ;  and  a  sadness, 
worthy  of  a  broken  heart,  invested  his  expressive 
features,  and  sighed  in  his  softened  speech. 

Brother  Stringent  remained  with  me  two  days.  — 
During  this  visit,  he  canvassed  Bubbleton,  saw  most 


216  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

of  his  old  friends  and  late  parishioners,  and  related  to 
me  several  incidents  of  his  ministerial  career. 

These  revelations  afforded  a  picture  of  the  ministry 
not  to  be  contemplated,  without  an  emotion  bordering 
on  despair ;  and  yet  they  accorded  so  truthfully  with 
my  own  recent  experience,  that  I  could  neither  regard 
them  as  fictions,  nor  scarcely  as  exceptional  instances 
of  hardship  and  injustice.  After  having  heard  his 
narrative,  I  expressed  neither  surprise  nor  regret  when 
Brother  Stringent  informed  me  that  he  had  given  up 
the  ministry. 


XXVII. 

INCIDENTS  OF  BROTHER  STRINGENT'S  MINISTRY. 

IN  justice  to  this  man's  memory,  I  think  I  ought 
to  transfer  to  these  pages  some  portion  of  his  profes 
sional  history, —  especially  as  his  connection  with  the 
Bubbleton  parish  identified  many  of  his  severest  trials 
with  mine,  and  proved  the  turning-point  in  his-  career. 

I  shall  attempt  to  present  this  reminiscence  in 
Brother  Stringent's  own  language,  as  accurately  as  it 
can  be  recalled  at  this  distance  of  time,  and  with  the 
help  of  notes  preserved  in  my  diary. 

"  I  commenced  preaching  in  Western .* 

I  was  young,  ardent,  and,  I  believe,  as  disinterested 

*  The  author  desires  to  intimate  here,  that  he  is  ready  to  specify 
more  particularly  the  scene  of  Brother  Stringent's  early  labors, 
should  any  person  require  proof  of  the  absolute  correctness  of  the 
statements.  But  the  indignant  sensitiveness  which  the  people  of 
this  region  have  already  manifested,  whenever  any  allusion  has 
been  made  to  their  faults,  renders  it  desirable  that  his  inevitable 
mention  of  them  in  these  Records,  be  couched  in  such  vague  terms 
as  to  baffle  the  discernment  of  his  readers,  and  so  avert  from  the 
delinquents  the  censure  they  so  reasonably  dread.  So  far  as  in 
us  lies,  let  us  live  peaceably  with  all  men. 

19 


218  BUBBLETON    PARISII. 

as  most  of  the  men  I  have  known.  I  was  hopeful  — 
even  enthusiastic;  but  my  expectations  were  rational. 
My  pecuniary  anticipations  were  limited  to  the  com 
forts  of  a  frugal  home,  and  the  means  of  pursuing 
those  studies  which  my  profession  imposed  upon  me. 
My  hopes  of  fame  were  restricted  to  the  approval 
and  affection  of  the  congregations  whom  I  might  be 
appointed  to  serve. 

"  The  societies  of  our  faith  in  that  region  were  then 
few,  widely  separated,  and  most  imperfectly  organized. 
Their  pecuniary  ability  was  not  great  —  compared 
with  that  of  some  other  sects  —  but  it  might  have 
enabled  them  to  do  vastly  more  for  the  encouragement 
of  their  ministers  than  was  actually  done.  The  nom 
inal  salary  of  a  preacher  who  gave  his  whole  time 
to  a  society,  was  two  hundred  dollars ;  though  it  rarely 
happened  that  more  than  three-fourths  of  this  sum 
was  collected.  Itinerant  ministers  fared  still  worse. 
If  one  of  these  received  three  or  four  dollars  for  a 
Sunday's  service,  which  cost  him  seventy  miles'  travel, 
he  had  reason  to  consider  himself  fortunate.  It  oftener 
happened  that  he  received  less,  and,  perhaps,  nothing 
more  tangible  than  the  thanks  of  those  to  whom  he 
had  revealed  the  impartial  Gospel  of  Christ. —  The 
idea  had  become  pretty  generally  propagated,  that  it 
was  wrong  to  pay  for  preaching. —  Some  spiritually- 
minded  man  had  made  the  discovery,  that  the  Gospel 
—  being  infinitely  above  silver  and  gold — became 
degraded  by  being  associated,  in  any  manner,  with  so 
gross  a  thing  as  money.  To  pay  a  minister  was  to 


BROTHER  STRINGENT'S  MINISTRY.         219 

materialize  the  spiritual  verities  he  proclaimed.  His 
office  was  too  ethereal  and  too  divine  to  admit  of  his 
being  recompensed  for  his  toils,  or  ministered  to  in  his 
wants,  like  ordinary  men !  It  was  a  pity  that  so 
charming  an  idea  —  which  flattered  the  clergy  while 
it  profited  the  laity  —  should  have  been  marred  by  a 
practical  fallacy,  which  its  advocates  could  never  re 
move.  The  fallacy  appeared  in  the  perplexing  fact, 
that,  while  ministers  were  declared  superior  to  the 
weakness  of  deserving  money,  in  requital  of  their 
labors,  they  were  not  released  from  the  obligation  to 
pay  it,  in  requital  of  benefits  received  from  others  ! 

' '  But  this  was  not  the  greatest  evil  that  charac 
terized  the  region  of  which  I  am  speaking. —  The  novel 
features  of  our  theology,  and  the  imperfection  of  our 
religious  organizations,  together  with  the  perverse  mis 
representations  of  hostile  sects,  led  many  persons  to 
connect  themselves,  temporally,  with  our  societies, 
whose  characters  imparted  to  our  views  little  credit, 
and  whose  notions  of  preaching  were  such  as  few 
Christians  would  be  inclined  to  adopt.  This  class  of 
persons  knew  no  Gospel  except  such  as  was  casually 
hinted  at,  in  the  energy  of  theological  debate.  They 
recognized  no  preaching  that  was  not  controversial. 
Satirical  expositions  of  the  weak  points  of  the  current 
faith,  were  their  special  delight.  And  when  a  per 
tinent  quotation  from  Holy  Writ,  pronounced  with 
zealous  emphasis  and  conscious  triumph,  promised  to 
demolish  the  strong  towers  of  some  belligerent  sect, 
they  seemed  to  realize,  for  the  first  time,  what  a  bless- 


220  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

ing  it  is  to  have  God's  will  plainly  written  in  a  book  ! 
But  if  a  preacher  declined  leading  a  sectarian  crusade, 
and  ventured  to  intimate  that  all  controversy  was  but 
a  means  to  an  end.  which  is  personal  holiness, —  if  he 
presumed  to  scrutinize  their  characters,  in  the  search 
ing  light  which  Christianity  casts  upon  human  life  — 
their  disapprobation  was  quick  and  vehement,  and 
they  withdrew  at  once  their  sympathies  and  their  sup 
port. 

"I  began  my  work  by  engaging  to  preach,  one- 
fourth  of  the  time,  to  a  small  society  in  Ducksburgh. 
The  engagement  was  formed  for  an  indefinite  period, 
and  was  made  contingent  on  my  securing  employment 
for  the  remainder  of  the  time,  in  some  of  the  neigh 
boring  towns.  I  was  to  be  paid  three  dollars  a  Sun 
day,  and  a  generous  member  of  the  society  offered  — 
as  I  was  then  unmarried  —  to  give  me  a  home  in  his 
family,  free  of  charge.  Our  meetings  were  held  in  a 
schoolhouse. 

"It  was  under  these  flattering  auspices  that  I  began 
to  preach  the  Gospel. 

"  Fixing  my  home  and  post-office  address  in  Ducks- 
burgh,  and  turning  my  friend's  parlor  into  a  study  — 
to  the  no  small  annoyance  of  his  housekeeper  and  the 
astonishment  of  visitors, —  I  labored  with  that  ardor 
which  only  the  first  years  of  manhood  can  know,  and 
only  the  loftiest  purposes  inspire. 

"I  felt  all  one's  youthful  zeal  for  my  faith;  and 
amazed  the  Reverend  Dr.  Gamaliel  —  a  proud,  mature 
man  of  forty  —  by  paying  him  a  controversial  visit, 


BROTHER  STRINOENT'S  MINISTRY.         221 

and  summoning  him  to  defend  certain  views,  which  he 
had  recently  put  forth  in  a  funeral  discourse.  Three 
neighboring  villages  shared  with  Ducksburgh  the  ben 
efit  of  my  ministry,  and  furnished  me  with  attentive 
and  complimentary  audiences.  To  and  from  these 
places,  which  were  distant  ten  and  fourteen  miles  from 
my  home,  I  uniformly  walked  —  for  the  most  impera 
tive  of  reasons, —  planning  discourses  and  mapping 
out  the  future,  by  the  way. 

"My  courage  and  zeal  lasted  until  the  small  sum 
of  money,  with  which  I  had  begun  my  public  career, 
became  exhausted,  and  my  perishable  raiment  showed 
signs  of  vanishing  away.  Then  I  suddenly  withdrew 
my  observation  from  the  general  interests  of  humanity, 
and  concentrated  it  upon  my  particular  person.  The 
spectacle  was  more  impressive  than  animating.  Prac 
tical  philosophers  have  noted  how  rapidly  human  reso 
lutions  collapse,  when  there  is  an  exhaustive  leak  in 
one's  pocket !  I  have  seen  the  time  when  I  could 
have  maintained,  that  current  money  possesses  the 
greatest  galvanic  power  under  heaven. 

"  Not  a  dollar  had  I  received  from  any  quarter, 
since  my  settlement  in  Ducksburgh,  and  my  wants 
were  becoming  manifest.  In  this  dilemma,  I  took  a 
zealous  friend  into  my  confidence,  and  begged  the 
benefit  of  his  counsel.  He,  in  turn,  made  a  state 
ment  of  the  case  to  his  wife,  and  she  to  certain  other 
women  of  the  society ;  and  thus  a  remedy  was  devised. 
It  appeared  that  my  zealous  friend  had  business  rela 
tions  with  a  tailor,  who  dictated  masculine  fashions  to 
19* 


222  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

the  credulous  people  of  the  next  village,  and  with 
whom  an  arrangement  was  made  to  induct  me  into  a 
new  suit  of  clothes. 

"Now  you  will  not  in  the  nature  of  the  case  suppose, 
either  that  Ducksburgh  was  as  fashionable  as  Broad 
way,  or  that  I  was  as  fastidious  as  a  dandy  ;  but  cer 
tain  it  is  that  any  civilized  community  would  marvel, 
at  this  day,  and  any  civilized  man  above  a  circus-rider 
despair,  at  sight  of  the  suit  that  was  thus  furnished  me, 
by  the  combined  genius  of  the  society  and  of  the  afore 
said  tailor.  The  coat  I  afterwards  heard  described  as 
a  pepper-and-salt  fabric,  but  of  what  material  the 
pants  and  vest  were  made,  defies  conjecture.  I  only 
know  that  they  were  striped  and  colored,  in  a  manner 
that  would  have  drawn  plaudits  from  a  savage,  and 
that  suggested  at  once  their  proper  destination,  namely, 
to  the  missionary  chest. 

"  This  highly  clerical  suit,  however,  I  actually 
wore  two  Sundays  —  in  part  from  necessity,  and  in 
part,  also,  from  insensibility  to  its  grotesque  effect. 
But,  happening  to  attend  a  conference,  where  I  met 
several  ministers  of  more  cultivated  taste,  I  was  made 
aware  of  my  ridiculous  appearance.  I  cast  off  the 
objectionable  garb,  and  a  kind  brother  became  my 
security  for  a  more  becoming  suit.  Still  the  Ducks- 
burgh  people  resented  my  treatment  of  their  gift. — 
Their  confidence  in  me  rapidly  declined  after  they 
beheld  me  irreproachably  attired.  I  labored  with 
them  during  a  considerable  portion  of  eight  months, 


BROTHER  STRINGENT'S  MINISTRY.         223 

but  received  nothing  more   in  remuneration  of  my 
services. 

"In  the  other  villages  where  I  had  preached  —  as 
I  was  given  to  understand,  '  to  good  acceptance  '  — 
for  more  than  a  dozen  Sundays,  I  did  not  receive  the 
value  of  the  shoe-leather  I  had  worn  out.  Yet  several 
of  my  constant  hearers,  in  these  places,  were  worth 
property  that  was  reckoned  by  thousands ;  and  I  have 
often  heard  them  speak  of  the  great  love  they  felt  for 
the  'cause,'  without  visibly  blushing  for  their  mean 


ness 


"  In  one  of  the  towns  just  alluded  to,  was  a  mer 
chant,  who  had  manifested  an  unusual  interest  in  my 
services.  He  had  urged  me,  in  the  most  flattering 
terms,  to  establish  a  series  of  meetings, —  had  circu 
lated  my  appointments  with  much  apparent  zeal,  and 
declared  himself  a  firm  supporter  of  the  cause.  His 
house  had  been  opened  for  my  entertainment,  and  all 
that  I  saw  in  his  home  indicated  a  liberal  disposition. 
This  man  was  reputed  to  be  rich,  and  the  style  of  his 
living  certainly  confirmed  the  report.  It  happened 
that  I  had  contracted  a  debt  of  seven  dollars,  at  a 
book -binder's,  in  this  place ;  and  the  idea  occurred  to 
me,  that,  having  preached  some  four  Sundays,  for 
which  I  had  as  yet  received  nothing,  I  would  hint  to 
the  people  the  propriety  of  paying  that  debt,  in 
requital  of  my  labors.  Accordingly,  I  spoke  to  my 
friend,  the  merchant,  about  my  plan.  You  will 
admire  the  cool  indifference  of  his  answer : 

"  '  Indeed,  sir,  I  do  not  know  what  others  may  say 


224  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

to  your  proposition,  but  as  for  myself,  I  find  it  all  I 
can  do  to  pay  my  own  debts  !  ' 

"And  this  man,  positively,  never  paid  me  a  shil 
ling  ! 

"  These  incidents  would  not  merit  notice,  were  they 
isolated  cases.  But  they  accurately  illustrate  a  char 
acteristic  of  that  section  of  country,  at  the  time  to 
which  I  allude,  and  offer  no  exaggerated  estimate  of 
the  trials  to  which  ministers  of  our  faith  were  liable. 
Nor  should  I  infer  that  there  has  been  much  improve 
ment,  even  yet,  as  regards  many  of  the  towns  —  judg 
ing  from  all  that  I  hear  of  the  poverty  of  those  who 
labor  in  that  ungrateful  region. 

"  0,  Brother  Chester  !  if  all  the  true  servants  of 
God  could  be  summoned,  in  their  glory,  before  us,  I 
believe  that  the  patient  heroism  of  those  obscure 
pioneers,  would  rival  the  brightness  of  the  saints  we 
have  canonized!  "  * 

*  The  following  statement  by  a  Presbyterian  minister  of  Indiana, 
which  is  copied  from  a  recent  number  of  the  Centre  Christian  Herald, 
shows  that  Brother  Stringent's  experience  is  not  without  a  parallel 
in  our  time  :  perhaps  it  may  be  but  fair  to  consider  it  an  "  extreme 
case  "  1 

"  We  live  on  less  than  two  hundred  dollars  per  annum,  including 
horse-keeping  and  travelling  expenses  ;  and  my  travelling  in  a  year 
is  not  less  than  three  thousand  miles.  I  have  to  go  to  a  neighbor 
ing  wood  and  fell  down  the  trees,  chop  them  into  ten  or  twelve  feet 
logs,  hitch  my  horse  to  them,  drag  them  to  the  house,  chop,  saw 
and  split  them  for  stove-fuel,  and  then,  after  preaching  two  sermons 
a  week,  riding  most  weeks  fifty  or  sixty  miles,  teaching  Sabbath- 
school,  riding  three  miles  to  post-office  and  store,  &c.  —  even  then  I 
am  accused  by  my  brethren  of  '  doing  nothing  but  riding  about  and 
reading  my  books,'  and  told  I '  might  work  a  little,  and  earn  a  part  of 
ray  living  ! '  " 


XXYIII. 

BEARING   THE   LIGHT  IN   A   DARK   PLACE. 

"AFTER  leaving  Ducksburgh,"  resumed  Brother 
Stringent,  "  I  flattered  myself  that  a  more  promising 
field  was  offered  me  in  Bunkerville.  Bunkerville  is 
skuated  just  within  the  borders  of  an  adjoining  state. 
It  is  a  romantic  village,  of  about  fifteen  hundred  in 
habitants,  bounded  by  finely -wooded  hills,  and  washed 
by  one  of  the  noblest  of  our  rivers.  The  leading  em 
ployment  of  the  place  is  lumbering;  and,  in  the 
spring  season,  when  the  river  is  swollen  by  the  melted 
snow  and  abundant  rain,  the  Sabbath  is  practically 
abrogated  for  several  weeks,  and  the  whole  place  be 
comes  a  scene  of  petty  traffic,  boisterous  labor,  and 
profane  uproar. 

"  In  this  village,  the  doctrines  of  our  faith  had  been 
cherished  by  a  few  worthy  families  during  many  years, 
but  by  the  community  at  large,  they  were  little  un 
derstood, —  never  having  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  a 
settled  and  permanent  ministry.  My  settlement  in 
the  place  was  viewed  as  an  experiment,  since  it  was 
considered  uncertain  whether  there  were  people  enough 


226  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

interested  in  the  diffusion  of  our  sentiments,  to  afford 
me  an  adequate  support.  The  beginning  of  my 
course,  however,  was  quite  promising.  There  seemed 
to  be  a  great  interest  awakened  in  regard  to  our  meet 
ings.  The  novelty  of  the  doctrines  advanced  drew  a 
crowd  of  hearers,  that  completely  filled  the  large 
court-house,  where  our  services  were  held.  Favora 
ble  expressions  were  elicited  from  many  of  the  lead 
ing  men  of  the  village.  Generous  offers,  of  a  pecu 
niary  nature,  were  tendered.  In  short,  such  was  my 
inexperience,  and  such  my  hopefulness  of  disposition, 
that  I  anticipated  wonderful  things  as  the  result  of 
my  labors. 

"  But  this  conceited  expectation  did  not  survive  the 
experience  of  six  months.  I  was  soon  made  to  realize 
how  transient  and  unreliable  all  this  apparent  interest 
was.  Having  heard  a  statement  of  my  faith,  and  seen 
an  inventory  of  its  evidences,  and  having  had  their 
torpid  sensibilities  exhilarated  by  the  excitement  of 
controversy,  the  majority  of  my  early  hearers  ap 
peared  to  conclude  that  no  further  advantage  was  to 
be  realized  from  my  preaching, —  especially  as  I  had, 
more  than  once,  turned  aside  from  the  fruitful  themes 
of  debate,  to  urge  upon  my  frivolous  auditors,  the  ne 
cessity  of  conforming  their  characters  to  the  divine 
principles  of  the  faith  I  proclaimed. 

"I  had  begun  to  observe,  with  disappointment  and 
despondency,  a  gradual  decline  of  interest  that  threat 
ened  to  terminate,  at  no  distant  period,  the  services 
so  hopefully  commenced,  when  one  of  my  most  zealous 


BEARING   THE   LIGHT   IN   A   DARK   PLACE.      227 

friends  obligingly  resolved  to  give  me  the  benefit  of 
his  counsel. 

"  '  I  think,'  said  he,  '  you  'd  better  give  us  a  little 
more  doctrine,  and  leave  the  practical  part  of  the 
faith  till  the  people  get  better  grounded.  I  notice 
that  everybody  likes  to  hear  our  doctrines  preached, — 
even  the  irreligious  seem  to  enjoy  them,  they  are  so 
animating,  so  consoling,  so  glorious.  But  your  prac 
tical  sermons  —  though  /  like  them,  myself —  don't 
somehow  take  so  well,  with  the  major  part  of  the  con 
gregation.  I  observe  that  some  are  quite  restless, 
under  such  sermons  as  cut  too  deep ;  and,  when  the 
meeting  is  over,  they  go  out  shrugging  their  shoulders 
and  shaking  their  heads,  as  if  worried  by  the  sting  of 
some  truth  you  had  darted  into  their  consciences. 

"  'Now,  Brother  Stringent,  a  horse  flinches  from 
the  harness  that  galls  him,  and  a  man  avoids  the 
preacher  who  gives  him  a  sore  conscience. —  It 's  the 
nature  of  both  animals  to  do  so.  How  shall  we  man 
age  to  retain  their  services?  —  for  dispense  with  them, 
we  cannot.  With  the  horse,  we  can  come  to  an  un 
derstanding,  by  softening  his  collar  and  reducing  his 
load  ;•  or,  by  an  exercise  of  arbitrary  power,  compel 
him  to  serve  us  on  our  own  terms.  But  the  man  is 
the  more  enlightened  and  the  more  stubborn  animal, 
—  the  thistle-eating  quadruped  is  no  match  for  him, 
with  respect  to  wilfulness,  and  the  longest-tailed  pea 
cock  can  give  one  no  idea  of  his  conceit. —  Him  we 
must  prudently  conciliate, —  we  must  touch  his  faults 
gingerly,  and,  as  it  were,  by  accident — not  permit- 


228  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

ting  .him  to  see  the  hand  that  wounds  him, —  and  suf 
fering  the  bitterness  of  judgment  to  season  the  Gospel 
feast,  only  in  the  proportion  of  an  ounce  of  pill  to  a 
ton  of  sugar ! ' 

"  As  I  appeared  somewhat  restive  under  this  advice, 
and  seemed  ready  to  controvert  the  principle  it  in 
volved,  my  friend  —  with  the  air  of  a  man  confident 
of  the  security  of  his  position  —  began  to  attack  me 
with  facts. 

"  '  There 's  Judge  Birch,'  said  he,  '  a  man  who  ad 
mired  you  unspeakably,  the  first  six  weeks,  and  of 
fered  to  give  us  fifty  dollars  toward  the  erection  of  a 
church.  Now  he's  off — huffy  as  a  Turk;  and  the 
Catholics  will  have  the  benefit  of  his  money.  What  a 
pity  you  should  have  given  that  temperance  harangue, 
just  as  the  judge  was  recovering  from  that  scandalous 
train,  and  when  he  knew  the  thing  was  fresh  in  every 
body's  mind !  It 's  true,  you  hit  the  nail  on  the 
head,  but  then  the  nail  split  the  pillar  —  there  's  the 
trouble !  The  judge  has  withdrawn,  and  with  him, 
half  a  dozen  friends  —  the  Poppies,  the  Dallies,  and 
old  Simon  Meadows  —  people  whom  we  can  ill  afford 
to  lose. 

"  '  Then  there  's  old  Mr.  Abraham  Brass,  who  used 
to  sit  so  erect,  with  his  crooked  cane  under  his  chin, 
and  his  mouth  wide  open  with  the  eagerness  of  his 
interest,  —  you've  driven  him  off  by  that  terribly 
sharp  sermon  on  profanity.  He  says  you  meant  him, 
and  that  everybody  knows  you  did,  and  declares  he 


BEARING  THE  LIGHT  IN  A  DARK  PLACE.  229 

won't  be  blowed  up  for  his  faults,  before  the  whole 
village,  by  any  man. 

"  '  Then,  again,  there 's  Miss  Cordelia  Pinafore, 
whose  voice  was  such  an  acquisition  to  the  choir,  and 
who  had  such  a  curious  way  of  looking  at  the  young 
men  over  the  top  of  her  fan, —  we've  lost  her,  too, 
because  you  saw  fit  to  preach  about  vanity,  and  to 
lash  frivolous  people  pretty  freely  with  your  whips 
of  satire. 

"  '  You  've  made  a  mistake,  Brother  Stringent:  — 
you  should  have  grounded  these  people  more  firmly  in 
the  faith,  before  venturing  to  attack  their  vices  and 
foibles.  You  '11  never  make  a  successful  fisher  of 
men.  until  you  learn  to  cover  your  naked  hook  with 
some  more  alluring  bait ! ' 

' '  As  this  counsel  commended  itself  neither  to  my 
judgment  nor  my  conscience  —  plausibly  and  forcibly 
as  it  was  urged  —  my  course  continued  unchanged, 
and  our  prospects  did  not  improve. 

"  During  my  residence  in  Bunkerville,  I  was  fre 
quently  invited  to  preach,  for  a  single  Sunday,  in 
some  of  the  neighboring  towns,  or  settlements.  A 
compliance  with  these  invitations  involved  a  great  deal 
of  travel  and  no  inconsiderable  expense ;  and  it  rarely 
happened  that  any  remuneration  was  offered,  or 
thought  of.  The  invitations  were  regarded  as  highly 
complimentary,  and  the  preacher  was  supposed  to  be 
the  obliged  party ! 

"  An  account  of  one  of  these  expeditions  will  afford 
20 


230  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

you  some  idea  of  the  comforts  and  rewards  that  usually 
attended  them : 

"Thirty  miles  from  Bunkerville,  there  was  a  set 
tlement  called  Spring  Rapids.  Here,  as  I  had  often 
been  assured,  lived  a  devout  believer  of  our  faith,  in 
the  person  of  an  old  lumber-merchant,  named  Gin- 
shang.  This  old  man  had  earnestly  desired  that  I 
might  come  and  spend  a  Sunday  with  him,  and  preach 
the  Gospel  in  his  neighborhood :  and  finally  I  made 
arrangements  to  gratify  his  wish. 

"  I  chose  the  last  day  of  a  beautiful  week  in  Sep 
tember  for  the  journey,  and  took  into  my  carriage  a 
member  of  my  congregation,  to  serve  as  companion 
and  guide;  for  I  had  learned  that  the  road  lay 
through  a  lonely  tract  of  forest  land,  and  was  neither 
direct  nor  plain. 

"  At  home,  the  travelling  was  excellent ;  but  as  we 
left  the  cultivated  country,  and  directed  our  course 
through  the  new  settlements,  we  found  the  roads  any 
thing  but  comfortable. —  Composed  of  a  mass  of  soft 
clay  —  saturated  with  water,  and  cut  into  furrows  by 
the  heavy  carts  of  the  lumbermen  —  a  more  laborious 
highway  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  We  rode,  in  the 
constant  fear  of  either  breaking  the  carriage,  or  seeing 
the  horse  flounder,  hopelessly,  in  the  mire. 

"  Already  I  had  repented  of  having  undertaken  the 
journey,  when  we  entered  upon  a  turnpike,  that  ex 
tended,  for  three  miles,  through  an  unbroken  pine 
wood.  I  can  give  you  no  worthy  impression  of  the 
horrors  of  this  road.  I  gave  the  reins  to  my  compan- 


BEARING  THE   LIGHT  IN   A   DARK  PLACE.     231 

ion,  and,  leaving  the  carriage  to  his  guidance,  scram 
bled  along  a  half-decayed  hedge,  which  had  been 
formed  by  fallen  trees,  at  the  opening  of  the  road. 
Relieved  as  the  vehicle  then  was,  it  proved  too  great 
a  burden  for  the  poor  horse.  He  repeatedly  fell,  in 
his  efforts  to  draw  it  through  the  mire.  At  last  I  was 
obliged  to  wade  into  the  swampy  abyss,  anfr  relieve 
the  wheels  of  the  ponderous  mass  of  clay  they  had 
accumulated. 

"The  day  was  more  than  half  spent  before  we 
emerged  into  the  next  clearing,  where  we  stopped  for 
refreshments.  It  was  yet  sixteen  miles  to  Spring 
Rapids,  and  we  began  to  doubt  our  ability  to  reach 
our  destination  before  night  should  set  in.  My  com 
panion  —  a  nervous  old  gentleman,  who  had  a  partic 
ular  dread  of  wolves  —  became  very  restless  at  the 
thought  of  traversing  that  desolate  region  after  night 
fall. 

"  We  hurried  on,  as  fast  as  the  nature  of  the  road 
and  the  condition  of  the  horse  would  admit.  It  was 
late  in  the  evening  when  we  reached  the  lumber-mer 
chant's  habitation,  which  we  found  to  be  a  comfortable 
dwelling,  standing  near  a  saw-mill,  and  nearly  sur 
rounded  by  pine  woods. 

' '  Mr.  Ginshang  proved  to  be  a  fat,  florid  old  gen 
tleman,  who  received  us  with  a  most  assuring  smile 
of  hospitality.  But  his  companion  —  a  tall,  stern- 
looking  matron,  who  held  a  severer  faith  —  looked 
upon  us  with  no  favor.  She  engaged  me  in  contro 
versy,  at  once,  and.  when  arguments  failed  her,  re- 


232  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

sorted  to  a  kind  of  language  more  abusive  than 
convincing. 

"  The  conflict  was  protracted  to  a  late  hour,  before 
it  occurred  to  the  zealous  lady  that  we  might  be  par 
doned,  under  the  circumstances,  for  feeling  more  in 
terest  in  her  pantry  than  in  her  creed.  The  reluctant 
supper  appeared  about  midnight,  and  the  labors  of  the 
day  terminated  after  another  hour's  discussion. 

"  I  was  awakened,  in  the  morning,  by  the  sound  of 
rain,  beating  furiously  against  my  window. —  Looking 
out,  I  saw  the  fields  half  deluged  with  water,  and  the 
sky  dense  with  clouds.  It  was  the  autumnal  storm ; 
and  it  continued  all  through  the  day,  without  abate 
ment. 

"At  the  hour  of  service,  the  lumber-merchant  — 
providing  each  of  us  with  an  umbrella,  and  bearing 
two  psalm-books  under  his  arm  —  led  the  way  to  the 
place  of  worship.  It  was  a  schoolhouse,  built  on  the 
border  of  the  pine  woods,  and  standing  in  the  shadow 
of  the  colossal  trees. —  The  wailing  of  the  storm 
through  the  lofty  pines,  furnished  the  only  music  we 
could  obtain  for  the  occasion;  for  the  old  lumber- 
merchant,  after  most  persevering  efforts  to  pitch  a 
tune  —  finding  that  nobody's  voice  came  to  his  assist 
ance —  tumbled  down  the  scale,  in  sudden  alarm  at 
his  own  melody,  and  closed  the  psalm-book  in  despair. 

"  Twenty  or  thirty  hard-featured  backwoodsmen, 
drenched  to  the  skin,  assembled  in  the  course  of  the 
forenoon,  and  I  talked  to  them,  from  the  Scriptures, 
about  two  hours  —  with  what  effect  I  never  learned. 


BEARING   THE   LIGHT  IN   A   DARK   PLACE.      233 

One  of  my  hearers  lived  in  a  distant  part  of  the  town, 
and  at  his  earnest  solicitation,  and  in  the  hope  that 
the  weather  might  become  more  propitious,  I  was  per 
suaded  to  appoint  a  service  in  his  neighborhood,  for 
Monday  evening. 

"At  sunset,  the  rain  ceased,  and  the  sky  became 
clear.  After  another  protracted  debate  with  the  lady 
of  the  house,  I  retired,  with  the  hope  of  pleasant 
weather  for  the  morrow.  The  storm,  however,  awoke 
before  morning,  with  all  its  vigor,  and  we  drove,  the 
next  day,  to  the  place  of  my  appointment,  through 
torrents  of  rain  and  mazes  of  mire. 

"Monday  evening  set  in  with  Egyptian  darkness, 
almost  impassable  roads,  and  the  storm,  whose  vio 
lence  had  not  at  all  abated.  Yet,  by  the  friendly  aid 
of  lanterns  and  umbrellas,  and  at  the  sacrifice  of  some 
rustic  finery,  a  considerable  congregation  was  assem 
bled —  composed,  in  part,  of  females,  whose  zeal,  or 
curiosity,  had  prompted  them  to  brave  the  terrors  of 
the  night.  While  I  marvelled  at  their  resolution,  I 
was  very  grateful  for  their  presence  —  especially  as 
some  of  them  were  tolerable  singers,  and  lent  their 
voices  to  the  interest  of  the  service.  I  have  seldom 
preached  with  more  energy  or  feeling  than  on  this 
occasion.  The  tones  of  the  storm  beating  without, 
and  the  eager  attention  of  those  obscure  hearers,  who 
had  defied  the  inclemency  of  the  night,  and  travelled, 
perhaps,  several  miles,  that  they  might  hear  the  Gos 
pel  ;  —  and  the  thought,  moreover,  of  the  priceless 
value  of  divine  truth  to  the  souls  of  men,  everywhere, 
20* 


234  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

and  especially  to  those  whose  lot  is  hard  and  whose 
opportunities  are  few  —  inspired  my  zeal  to  an  un 
wonted  degree,  and  called  forth  all  the  power  and  per 
suasiveness  of  my  nature. 

"  After  the  meeting  had  broken  up,  a  woman,  who 
bore  on  her  features,  the  signs  of  years  of  labor  and 
trouble,  and  whose  husband,  as  I  subsequently  learned, 
was  dissipated  and  unkind  —  came  to  me,  weeping 
violently,  and  thanking  me  for  the  comfort  I  had 
imparted,  in  broken  language  that  went  to  my  heart. 
And  the  belief  that  I  had  spoken  comfort  to  one  un- 
blest  spirit  —  toiling  and  grieving  on  this  waste-place 
of  life,  and  neither  perceiving  the  beauty  of  earth  nor 
sharing  the  hopes  of  heaven  —  was  the  recompense  I 
received  for  this  journey. 


XXIX. 

CLIPPING  THE  EAGLE'S  WINGS. 

"  THE  following  spring  terminated  my  residence  in 
Bunkerville.  My  congregations  had  been  declining, 
in  numbers  and  interest,  during  several  months,  and 
when  the  rafting  season  came,  it  put  a  period  to  our 
unfortunate  meetings. 

"  My  want  of  success  was  attributed  to  the  general 
complaint  that  my  preaching  was  too  pointed,  and 
that  I  failed  to  ground  my  hearers  in  the  great  doc 
trines  of  the  Bible. 

"  This,  too,  is  the  standing  charge  against  me  in 
Bubbleton,  as  you  have  probably  learned.  I  am  not 
prudent  enough,  I  know,  to  be  a  successful  minister. 
I  can't  temporize  with  people.  I  can't  flatter,  and 
compromise,  and  whip  the  guilty  men  over  the  shoul 
ders  of  the  Babylonians,  after  Mr.  Downy's  fashion, 
at  the  Plush-street  Church.  My  plain,  untutored 
sincerity  has  always  been  getting  me  into  trouble.  I 
suppose  I  could  scarcely  preach  a  discourse  to  any 
congregation,  without  irritating  somebody's  sensitive- 


236  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

ness  —  the  habit  of  plain-dealing  has  become  so  con 
firmed  in  me. 

"  My  last  trouble  in  Bunkerville  was  experienced 
in  trying  to  collect  what  money  was  due  me. 

"I  was  astonished  at  the  ingenious  devices  by 
which  men  contrived  to  withhold  the  sums  they  had 
promised  to  pay. 

"  One  man  brought  me  a  load  of  unmarketable 
wood,  which  I  neither  desired  nor  could  dispose  of, 
in  payment  of  a  claim  of  five  dollars,  which  ought  to 
have  been  met  with  money.  Another,  who  had  sub 
scribed  ten  dollars,  after  paying  me  half  the  sum, 
deliberately  informed  me  that  the  remainder  was  sub 
scribed  simply  as  an  example  of  liberality  for  others 
— '  not  that  he  intended  to  pay  it,  for,  really,  he 
could  not  afford  it ! ' 

"  Another  still,  with  an  air  of  grand  unconcern, 
told  me  that  his  subscription  was  made  contingent  on 
the  success  of  our  undertaking,  and  that,  as  I  had 
notoriously  failed  to  sustain  myself,  or  realize  the 
expectations  of  the  people,  he  did  not  feel  bound  to 
fulfil  his  engagement. 

"  It  was  neither  the  first  nor  the  last  time  that  I 
was  made  to  realize,  how  loosely  pecuniary  obligations 
hang  upon  many  men,  if  contracted  in  favor  of  a  min 
ister.  If  they  owe  nobody  but  their  preacher,  they 
are  at  rest.  He  will  not  prosecute  or  dun  them,  as 
any  other  creditor  would ;  and  they  take  advantage 
of  his  peculiar  position  and  relations,  to  stretch  his 


CLIPPING  THE  EAGLE'S  WINGS.  237 

patience  to  its  utmost  tension,  or  deprive  him  of  his 
earnings  entirely.  Their  course  is  not  merely  unjust, 
it  is  cowardly  and  mean. 

"I  have  known  ministers  utterly  disqualified  for 
their  duties,  for  weeks  and  weeks,  by  this  culpable 
neglect  on  the  part  of  their  societies;  and  I  have 
known  the  very  people  most  indifferent  to  their  pas 
tor's  rights,  and  most  neglectful  of  his  claims  upon 
them,  to  complain  the  loudest  of  any  failure  he  might 
commit  in  consequence  of  the  embarrassments  they 
had  forced  upon  him ! 

"I  will  not  expatiate  upon  my  ministry  in  Bub- 
bleton. 

"From  what  you  must  have  heard  concerning  me, 
you  will  have  acquired  a  tolerably  fair  impression  of 
my  embarrassments  and  difficulties.  I  do  not  claim 
that  I  have  always  pursued  the  wisest  course,  but  I 
always  acted  from  my  convictions. 

"I  suppose  there  are  ministers — of  longer  and 
more  varied  experience  —  who  might  have  managed 
this  parish ;  but  I  am  at  a  loss  to  imagine  what  meth 
ods  they  could  have  adopted,  consistent  with  a  proper 
discharge  of  their  responsibilities. 

"  I  found  most  of  the  people  in  the  parish  leaning 
on  the  abstractions  of  faith,  and  utterly  indifferent  to 
the  demands  of  the  passing  moment.  Consoling  them 
selves  with  the  promises  of  God,  they  were  unmindful 
of  their  personal  responsibilities.  Entranced  by  the 
glowing  prospect  of  futurity,  they  abandoned  the 
present  to  the  power  of  evil,  and  forgot  that  man  must 


238  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

become  the  co-laborer  of  God,  before  the  felicity  of 
the  universe  can  be  realized. 

"  I  endeavored  to  make  them  conscious  of  their 
error. 

"  I  asserted  that  the  kingdom  of  holiness  and  love 
we  anticipate,  would  never  descend  to  bless  passive 
and  idle  souls ;  but  that  we  must  mount  into  its 
blessed  atmosphere,  by  lopping  off  our  worldliness, 
and  winging  our  noblest  powers  with  virtuous  endeav 
ors. 

"  I  maintained  that  a  faith  that  opened  all  the  pos 
sible  glories  of  futurity  to  our  sight,  without  quick 
ening  our  manliness  and  exalting  our  aims,  failed  to 
influence  us  as  it  ought ;  and  that  we  were  not  worthy 
to  see  all  the  goodness  of  God  pass  before  us,  unless, 
like  Moses,  we  were  willing  to  labor  in  his  service  — 
helping  to  lead  our  brethren  out  of  bondage  into  the 
Canaan  of  promise. 

c '  I  reminded  them  that  no  drunkard  could  enter 
that  beautiful  realm  which  our  faith  disclosed,  and 
that  the  enslaver  could  not  carry  his  chains  or  scourges 
there ;  and  told  them  that  the  sooner  we  put  Intem 
perance  and  Slavery  out  of  the  world,  with  all  their 
Tartarean  satellites,  the  sooner  the  gates  of  the  millen 
nium  would  open  to  our  knock. 

"  I  hoped  that  the  parish  would  respond  to  these 
views,  or  at  least  tolerate  them;  but  I  was  not  so 
fortunate. 

"  Some  there  were  who  stared  at  me,  in  wonder,  as 
if  I  had  unfolded  a  new  Gospel ;  while  others  regarded 


CLIPPING  THE  EAGLE'S  WINGS.  239 

me  as  a  mad  fanatic,  charged  with  enough  combustion 
to  blow  up  the  nation  ! 

"  And  so,  with  the  consciousness  of  another  failure, 
and  a  deeper  sense  of  the  blind  selfishness  of  man,  I 
resigned  my  charge,  and  departed  from  Bubbleton. 
When  will  you  do  likewise  ?  " 


XXX. 

THE   END    OF   A   TROUBLED   MINISTRY. 

I  MADE  no  reply  to  Brother  Stringent's  abrupt 
interrogatory,  except,  perhaps,  by  some  such  doleful, 
elongated  look  as  the  face  is  liable  to  assume,  when 
some  opaque  shadow  drifts  across  the  perspective  of 
Hope,  and  we  say  to  our  defeated  spirit,  "  How  art 
thou  fallen  from  heaven,  0  Lucifer,  Son  of  the  Morn- 
ing!" 

"  But  after  you  left  Bubbleton,"  — said  I,  break 
ing  a  long  and  oppressive  silence;  "  where  did  you 
go  then?" 

And  looking  at  him  closely,  as  I  put  the  question, 
I  saw  that  his  countenance  was  distorted  by  that  cyn 
ical  expression,  which  I  have  already  noticed  as 
becoming  habitual  to  it ;  and  I  also  saw  —  what  gave 
to  that  expression  a  pathetic  effect  —  that  it  was 
mingled  with  tears, —  not  tears  of  weakness,  such  as 
flow  from  the  surface  of  the  sensibilities,  but  such  as 
are  wrung  from  the  strong,  earnest  MAN,  when  the 
main  purpose  of  his  life  is  broken. 


THE    END    OF   A   TROUBLED   MINISTRY.        241 

"After  I  left  Bubbleton,"  —  said  Brother  Strin 
gent,  slowly,  —  "so  you  have  not  heard  the  rest ? " 

"No;  only  a  few  intangible  rumors;  I  learned, 
however,  that  you  had  settled  again." 

"  I  will  finish  my  story,  then,  and  you  shall  know 
the  immediate  cause  of  my  giving  up  the  ministry." 

And  he  resumed  as  follows  : 

"  You  must  be  aware  that  I  left  Bubbleton  in  no 
very  cheerful  state  of  mind.  My  confidence  was 
abandoning  me.  I  was  no  longer  sanguine.  The 
buoyancy  of  my  nature  was  gone.  I  began  to  feel 
that  I  had  trusted  too  much  in  the  goodness  of  men, 
and  hoped  too  much  from  their  honor  and  generosity ; 
and,  0.  Brother  Chester !  would  that  you  might 
never  experience,  as  you  will,  and  as  I  have,  the 
reaction  of  a  too  generous  faith  in  your  race  ! 

"  This,  however,  was  not  the  greatest  of  my  sor 
rows  :  I  had  begun  to  doubt  the  power  of  the  Gospel 
to  exert  that  transforming  influence  over  men,  of 
which  I  had  once  thought  it  capable.  I  saw  but  little 
evidence  of  its  power.  I  noticed  that  most  men  either 
heard  its  lessons  with  discouraging  apathy,  or  resented 
their  application  with  anger  and  persecution.  I  gath 
ered  up  the  facts  of  my  own  experience,  and  the  im 
pressions  derived  from  my  observation  abroad,  and  was 
overwhelmed  by  the  conviction  of  the  practical  fruit- 
lessness  of  Christian  efforts. 

"  But  I  was  not  permitted  to  lapse  into  idleness. 
A  family  looked  to  me  for  support ;  and  my  poverty 
21 


242  BUBBLETON  PARISH. 

drove  me  to  action,  when  I  would  gladly  have  lain 
down,  in  utter  weariness  and  despondency. 

"  I  went  up  to  the  city,  that  I  might  learn  what 
prospect  there  was  of  obtaining  another  settlement. 
My  fame  had  preceded  me  —  not  to  make  my  task 
easier,  hut  to  hedge  it  about  with  petty  obstacles.  I 
found  that  my  enemies  had  created  a  prejudice  against 
me  in  the  minds  of  the  most  influential  brethren,  and 
that  I  was  regarded  as  a  rash,  headstrong,  and  im 
prudent  minister,  whom  it  was  not  best  to  recommend 
to  destitute  societies. 

' '  My  self-respect  was  hurt,  and  my  pride  quick 
ened,  by  this  treatment.  I  made  no  attempt  to  disa 
buse  those  who  had  passed  this  hasty  judgment  upon 
me.  Indeed,  with  my  recent  impressions  of  human 
nature,  I  did  not  wonder  much  at  the  unfavorable 
light  in  which  I  was  viewed. 

'•'  I  walked  the  peopled  streets  in  such  a  solitude 
of  heart  as  no  tongue  can  describe.  I  was  doubly 
poor, —  money  I  had  none,  nor  any  means  of  earning 
it,  and  I  was  in  debt  for  the  bread  that  supported  my 
dependent  ones ;  but,  worse  than  this,  Faith  and 
Courage  —  the  current  coin  of  manhood  —  had  wasted 
from  the  bare  treasury  of  my  soul. 

4 '  Twice,  in  the  course  of  my  lonely  walks  through 
the  inhospitable  city,  I  met  Mr.  Downy,  the  Plush- 
street  minister.  Once,  his  wife  was  leaning  on  his 
arm,  and  what  brightness  of  contentment  and  joy 
shone  in  their  smiling  countenances,  as  they  passed ! 
And  how  eloquently  did  the  sumptuousness  of  their 


THE  END   OF  A  TROUBLED   MINISTRY.        243 

apparel,  and  the  glitter  of  their  jewels,  testify  to  the 
friendship  and  admiration  of  their  parish !  On  the 
other  occasion,  it  was  Sunday,  and  the  popular  minis 
ter  was  about  to  delight  a  metropolitan  audience  with 
his  obscure  allusions  and  carefully-blunted  rhetoric. 
How  ^asy  and  care-free  was  his  walk !  and  on  the 
light,  pure  expanse  of  his  brow,  with  what  a  delicate 
touch  Time  had  registered  the  years  !  A  fair  hand 
rested  upon  his  firm  arm,  and  a  glance  of  beauty  stole 
up  to  his  complacent  face,  and  a  crowd,  that  adver 
tised  its  wealth  and  social  preeminence  by  splendor  of 
raiment  and  pride  of  bearing,  surrounded  him  with  its 
plumy  magnificence,  and  bore  him  on,  as  it  were,  in  a 
triumphal  march.  '  0  man  of  untroubled  heart  and 
prosperous  fortunes !  '  I  exclaimed,  as  the  dazzling 
vision  moved  by,  '  if  THOU  art  minister  of  Him  who 
trod  the  wine-press  alone  and  found  no  recompense 
but  in  God,  then  is  the  web  of  our  life  woven  of  such 
strange  illusions,  that  he  is  happiest  who  is  most 
blind ! ' 

' '  Then  it  was  that  I  felt  the  power  of  a  temptation 
hitherto  unknown. 

"Why  combat  the  evil  propensities  of  a  world,  too 
obstinate  and  base  for  redemption?  Why  sacrifice 
myself  in  a  hopeless  conflict  with  human  selfishness  ? 
Why  not  conform,  and  concede,  and  —  be  happy? 
Ah,  the  happiness  of  a  TRAITOR  !  but  I  listened  to 
the  alluring  voice,  and  followed  the  captivating  tempt 
er  up  into  the  mountain,  and  surveyed  the  enchanting 
prospect  to  which  he  directed  my  eyes.  ^All  this  will 


244  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

I  give  thee,  if  THOU  WILT  FALL  DOWN  AND  WOR 
SHIP  MB.' 

"  I  considered  the  proposal.  All  the  kingdoms  of 
the  earth,  and  the  glory  of  them ;  and  for  what  ?  For 
worshipping  one  devil.  I  reflected :  evidently  it  must 
be  a  grievous  service  that  deserves  such  a  recompense  ; 
shall  I  be  happier  for  undertaking  it  ?  Again  :  Has 
he  not  promised  the  same  reward  to  some  millions  of 
men  already,  and  would  there  not  be  some  difficulty 
in  recognizing  the  claims  of  so  many  servants  ?  Still 
again,  '  the  devil  is  a  liar  from  the  beginning ' —  in 
confirmation  of  which,  one  has  only  to  remember,  that 
'the  earth  is  the  LORD'S,'  and  that  He  is  the  owner 
of  the  kingdoms,  and  the  only  Being  who  can  bestow 
them. 

"  Thus  I  resisted  the  temptation  to  betray  my  office, 
though  I  felt,  more  and  more,  the  necessity  of  resign 
ing  it,  at  no  distant  day. 

"I  had  been  'lying  upon  my  oars'  some  two 
months,  when  the  opportunity  presented  itself  for  me 
to  secure  another  location.  The  little  parish  in  South 
Whiffleham  offered  me  its  support.  It  was  not  such 
a  place  as  I  desired,  for  several  reasons.  The  salary 
offered  appeared  quite  too  meagre  for  the  support  of 
my  family.  The  people  were  reported  to  be  captious 
and  fickle.  And,  moreover,  many  of  them  were  in 
that  state  of  ignorance  that  fosters  the  silliest  preju 
dices,  and  gives  to  conceit  its  mulish  invincibility. 

"  Still,  at  the  dictation  of  necessity,  and  with  a 
passiveness  of  spirit  that  comes  only  of  exhausted 


THE   END    OF  A   TEOUBLED   MINISTRY.         245 

hope,  I  accepted  the  invitation,  and  moved  to  Whiffle- 
ham. 

"My  evil  fortune  pursued  me,  as  I  had  half-ex 
pected.  Consequences,  like  comets,  carry  tails  of  in 
calculable  length.  Bubbleton  visited  me  with  its 
vengeance,  even  in  the  retirement  of  Whiffleham. 

"  One  of  the  parishioners  chanced  to  visit  this  city, 
and  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Fiscal  and  Mr. 
Arlington.  Now  mark  the  determined  hostility  of 
fate :  Out  of  ten  thousand  human  beings,  assembled 
within  the  limits  of  Bubbleton,  obstinate  fate  will  se 
lect  my  two  most  powerful  enemies  to  entertain  my 
wayfaring  parishioner.  And,  as  a  consequence,  this 
man  returns  to  Whiffleham,  full  of  suspicion  and  ap 
prehension.  He  regards  me  as  a  dangerous  man.  and 
feels  it  his  duty  to  acquaint  others  with  his  impres 
sions,  and  with  the  source  of  them,  lest,  unwatched,  I 
run  the  parish  into  the  Abolition  vortex. 

1 '  Thus  it  happens  that  —  ere  I  have  had  time  to 
acquire  the  confidence  of  the  people  —  that  confidence 
is  stolen  away  by  misrepresentations,  secretly  insinu 
ated  into  their  minds.  I  am  watched,  like  one  who 
has  shown  signs  of  madness.  Every  sentence  I  utter 
in  the  pulpit  is  jealously  criticized.  Every  ambiguous 
word  I  drop  in  conversation,  receives  an  unfriendly 
interpretation. 

"You  may  anticipate  the  result.     The  crisis  came, 
but  my  experience  had  shown  me  the  folly  of  resist 
ance.     The  kingdom  was  not  worth  the  contest.  Like 
21* 


246  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

one  dead  to  glory,  I  retreated  from  Whiffleham,  and 
became  once  more  a  fugitive. 

"  Here  ends  my  brief  and  troubled  ministry.  I  have 
no  wish  to  continue  the  experiment.  I  have  come  to 
be  regarded  as  unfitted  for  the  profession ;  and  I  be 
lieve  that  I  am.  Were  I  to  offer  my  services  to  any 
society  where  I  am  known,  they  would  be  declined ; 
and,  as  I  think,  wisely.  Successful  ministers  shake 
their  heads,  significantly,  when  my  name  is  men 
tioned,  and  count  up  against  me  the  sad  list  of  my 
failures.  What  can  I  do  but  accept  their  charitable 
reprimands,  and  betake  myself  to  other  fields  of 
labor?" 


XXXI. 

A   HEAKT  IN   EUINS. 

I  WAS  not  quite  pleased  with  the  tone  Brother 
Stringent' s  voice  assumed,  or  with  the  expression  of 
his  face,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  narrative;  but  I 
found  enough  in  his  ministerial  history  to  account  for 
the  state  of  his  feelings. 

After  a  short  silence  —  by  a  transition  habitual 
with  him,  and  which  marked  the  ever-changing  tem 
per  of  his  feelings  —  he  startled  me  by  the  pathetic 
energy  of  his  utterance  : 

"Yet,  Brother  Chester,  in  resigning  the  ministry, 
I  resign  the  hopes  that,  more  than  all  things  beside, 
encouraged  and  animated  my  youth.  I  disappoint  the 
expectations  of  those  who  sympathized  with  my  early 
resolutions,  and  seconded  my  manly  endeavors. 

' { From  my  boyhood,  it  had  been  the  cherished  pur 
pose  of  my  heart  to  proclaim  the  Gospel,  and  to  be 
come  endeared  to  my  fellow-men  by  serving  some  of 
their  higher  needs,  and  soothing  their  severest  afflic 
tions.  No  employment  appeared  to  me  so  truly  glo 
rious,  as  that  of  the  faithful  minister  of  Christ.  To 


248  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

be  the  servant  of  God's  mercy,  and  the  defender  of 
virtue,  here  amid  the  allurements  of  the  world. —  to 
represent  and  enforce  the  example  of  Him  who  is  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the  life, — to  be  near  the  heart  of 
man  in  its  troubled  moods,  and  within  the  shelter  of 
God's  spirit  continually. —  and  to  devote  all  one's  na 
tive  gifts  and  laborious  acquisitions  to  the  advance 
ment  of  human  welfare,  and  receive  in  return  the  love 
and  confidence  of  thousands  of  grateful  hearts,— to 
grow  old  in  this  blessed  service,  and  have  one's  white 
hairs  venerated  for  the  devotion  they  proclaim. —  and 
to  fall  at  last,  at  the  end  of  the  well-trodden  course, 
with  one's  armor  on,  and  his  face  lit  up  by  a  celestial 
glory  —  this  seemed  to  me  the  noblest  destiny  that 
God  permits  any  of  his  children  to  achieve. 

"  I  owed  these  views,  as  well  as  the  resolution  that 
gathered  them  into  a  living  purpose,  to  my  mother, 
whose  spirit.  I  thank  God,  is  beyond  the  regrets  and 
disappointments  of  this  world  !  I  owe  many  of  my 
strongest  incitements  to  my  wife,  whose  sympathy  I 
have  possessed  from  her  girlhood,  and  who  lives  to 
share  my  regrets,  and  the  yet  more  bitter  uncertain 
ties  of  the  future. 

"  Such  is  the  purpose,  and  such  are  the  hopes  I 
cherished,  amid  the  illusions  of  youth  ;  and  these  are 
the  things  I  have  resigned,  on  obtaining  a  more  accu 
rate  knowledge  of  men,  and  on  coming  in  contact  with 
the  realities  of  the  world." 

He  paused  again. 

Throughout  his  narration,  I  had  felt  an  uncomfort- 


A   HEART  IN   RUINS.  249 

able  influence  stealing  over  me,  and  gradually  chill 
ing' my  heart. 

It  was  the  shadow  of  his  misfortunes  darkening  my 
own  perspective  —  already  too  deeply  shaded  by 
impending  storms. 

I  thought  of  Thomas  Carlyle's  whimsical  definition 
of  scepticism  —  the  richest  tropical  fruit  turned 
sour;  and  felt  how  mournfully  Brother  Stringent 
verified  the  saying. 

"Is  it  possible,"  said  I,  at  length,  "that  you  can 
have  resigned  views  so  noble  —  hopes  so  glorious?  — 
things  that  form  the  main  figures  in  the  scenery  of 
your  youth,  and  that  have  such  filial  and  affectionate 
associations?" 

"  They  have  not  yet  entirely  relinquished  their 
hold  upon  me,"  he  answered ;  "  but  time  will  vanquish 
them,  as  it  does  all  generous  feelings  and  brave 
resolves ! " 

"Brother  Stringent!" 

"  Well ! " 

"  When  a  man  believes  what  you  have  just  asserted, 
he  is  morally  ruined." 

"I  know  it." 

"  Then  recall  that  cynical  sentiment.  Your  words 
infect  me  with  doubts  that  would  desecrate  my  life,  if 
I  entertained  them." 

' '  For  your  sake,  then,  be  the  sentiment  recalled ; 
though,  like  the  truth  which  Galileo  was  commanded 
to  renounce  before  the  Inquisition,  it  must  lie,  secret 
ly  professed,  in  my  too  conscious  heart !  " 


250  BUBBLETON   PAKISH. 

"I,  at  least,  can  never  think  thus  —  WILL  never 
think  thus,  Brother  Stringent !  " 

"  You  are  young,  Brother  Chester,  and  your  trust 
becomes  your  years.  The  morning  mists  of  fancy  veil 
yet  the  barren  rocks  and  volcanic  wastes,  where  your 
feet  are  destined  to  tread.  But  keep  your  faith  while 
you  can.  Revel  in  its  illusions  while  you  may.  I 
will  not  disturb  it  more." 

Then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  added,  in  a  most 
earnest  voice : 

' '  If  you  so  much  dread  the  loss  of  your  faith  in 
man  —  and  dread  it  you  well  may  —  let  me  advise 
you  to  leave  Bubbleton  —  to  leave  it  without  delay : 
for  it  was  here  that  my  heart  received  its  severest 
wound ;  and  there  is  little  hope  of  your  being  more 
fortunate. 

"You.  doubtless,  wonder  at  the  sad  change  which 
my  experience  has  wrought  in  me.  I  have  named  no 
great  calamity,  such  as  you  may  have  supposed 
necessary  to  produce  such  a  revolution.  But  they 
err  who  suppose  that  any  single  event,  however  dire 
ful,  can  work  a  change  in  the  nature  of  man,  equal  to 
that  which  is  wrought  by  the  concurrent  action  of 
many  inferior  troubles,  assailing  him  without  respite 
or  change. —  It  is  the  incessant  chafing  of  small  sor 
rows  that  affects  the  heart  most.  So  a  single  drop 
of  water,  dripping  incessantly  upon  the  criminal's 
head,  becomes  a  means  of  horrible  torment. 

"Thus  it  is  that  the  ministry  wears  out  and  per 
verts  so  many  strong  and  promising  men. 


A   HEART   IN    RUINS.  251 

"  It  imposes  a  constant  strain  of  anxiety,  that  in 
sensibly,  yet  rapidly,  wastes  the  nervous  powers, 
jades  down  the  spirits,  and  turns  the  head  premature 
ly  gray.  What  an  innumerable  combination  of  cares 
loads  down  the  pastor's  mind  !  What  a  diversity  of 
dispositions  and  interests  he  is  expected  to  conciliate 
and  reconcile  !  In  what  various  scenes  must  he  ap 
pear  —  and  always  in  harmony  with  the  occasion ! 
What  prolonged  exercises  of  thought  and  research  are 
necessary,  if  he  would  preserve  the  interest  of  his 
audience ! 

'  '•  But  worse  than  all  these  are  the  petty  vexations, 
and  unavoidable  enmities,  that  cleave  to  him  like  a 
thorn-woven  vesture.  These  can  neither  be  avoided 
nor  conquered.  Like  hosts  of  swift-mounted  Cossacks, 
they  harass  his  weary  ranks,  and  allow  him  no  rest ; 
but  never  abide  the  charge  of  his  invincible  forces." 


XXXII. 

MY   RESOLUTION. 

I  HAVE  thus  attempted  to  give  my  readers  some 
idea  of  Brother  Stringent:s  professional  experience, 
and  of  the  state  of  mind  to  which  he  had  become 
reduced. 

His  visit  could  not  have  occurred  at  a  more  luck 
less  period,  as  regards  its  influence  upon  me.  Recent 
events  had  depressed  my  own  heart  to  such  a  degree, 
already,  that  I  was  not  prepared  to  withstand  the 
effects  of  his  gloomy  and  oppressive  society.  He  gave 
an  impulse  to  my  thoughts,  from  which  I  found  it 
hard  to  recover,  and  imparted  a  hue  to  my  feelings 
that  darkened  the  aspect  of  every  object. 

It  scarcely  required  the  desponding  influence  of 
this  visit,  or  Brother  Stringent's  emphatic  advice,  to 
persuade  me  that  I  ought  to  leave  Bubbleton.  The 
more  I  reflected  the  more  clearly  did  it  appear,  that 
my  usefulness,  in  this  place,  was  ended ;  and  that  the 
welfare  of  the  parish,  as  well  as  my  own  peace  of 
mind,  demanded  the  resignation  of  my  charge. 

In  a  word,  I  determined  to  intimate  my  desire  to 


MY  RESOLUTION.  253 

have  the  connection  dissolved  the  ensuing  Sunday, 
and  leave  the  scene  of  so  much  embarrassment  and 
trouble,  without  further  delay. 

Having  formed  this  resolution,  I  thought  I  would 

ride  over  to  D ,  and  acquaint  Oracular  Blunt 

with  my  design. 

That  eccentric  minister  was  absent  —  a  circum 
stance  which  I  regretted  less,  for  the  reason  that  I 
had  feared  some  opposition  from  him  to  the  course  I 
proposed  taking,  and  I  was  glad  to  avoid  a  conflict 
with  his  sturdy,  indomitable  spirit. 

That  day.  I  witnessed  a  rather  curious  spectacle, 
,which  I  will  mention  by  way  of  relieving  these  last 
too  sombre  records : 

I  saw  —  passing  along  the  main  street  of  Bubble- 
ton,  and  linked  arm  in  arm  —  Mr.  Peppery  and  Mr. 
Saturnine  Glum.  The  little  reformer  —  recovered 
from  his  injuries,  and  zealous  as  ever  in  behalf  of  the 
cause  he  had  espoused  —  was  expatiating  on  the  wrongs 
of  slavery  and  on  the  guilt  of  the  nation,  with  a  rapid 
ity  of  utterance  and  vehemence  of  gesture,  truly 
amazing.  And  the  slow,  leaden-eyed  apothecary  — 
as  if  delighting  in  the  horrors  his  companion  por 
trayed  so  vividly,  and  secretly  congratulating  himself 
on  having  secured  such  congenial  company  —  was  lis 
tening  with  an  air  of  grim  satisfaction,  and  signifying 
his  approval,  now  and  then,  by  a  heavy  nod. 

Thus  these  strange  men  pursued  their  way  — un 
conscious  of  all  the  notice  they  elicited,  and  utterly 
22 


254  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

absorbed  by  those  sad  topics  which  formed  their  bond 
of  sympathy. 

At  last,  Mr.  Peppery  has  found  one  human  being, 
amid  the  perversities  of  Bubbleton,  who  will  endorse 
the  bitterest  truths  he  can  utter  ;  and  Saturnine  Glum 
may  have  the  walls  of  his  sepulchral  fancy  hung  with 
pictures  of  woe  and  guilt,  such  as  he  has  coveted  for 
many  a  day  in  vain. 


XXXIII. 

I  RESIGN  MY   OFFICE. 

THE  wearisome,  desponding  week — lingering  as 
all  unhappy  time  seems  to  linger  —  dragged  itself 
away  at  last ;  and  the  Sunday  came  —  the  day  I  was 
to  resign  my  charge  of  the  parish. 

The  day  opened  with  a  dull,  hesitating  April  rain ; 
and  while  the  languor  of  spring  pervaded  the  frame, 
the  sombre  aspect  of  the  sky  —  hung  wide  with 
mourning  vestures  —  oppressed  and  clouded  the  mind! 

I  threw  back  the  shutter,  and  surveyed  the  dreary 
streets  and  dripping  buildings  —  thinking  of  that  first 
Sabbath  morning,  when,  from  one  of  Mr.  Arlington's 
chambers,  I  had  counted  ten  church-spires  glistening 
in  the  sun.  I  contrasted  that  day  with  this  —  the 
buoyant  spirit,  then  serene  at  the  outset  of  the  race, 
with  the  doubting  heart,  divested  of  its  early  confi 
dence,  and  thwarted  in  its  dearest  wish,  and  halting  in 
the  first  stage  of  its  course.  I  thought  of  my  endeav 
ors,  of  my  sufferings,  and  of  my  failure;  and  the 
spirit  of  my  late  visitor  —  stealing  into  my  heart  like 
a  poisonous  odor  —  unconsciously  colored  the  whole 
retrospect. 


256  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

At  nine  o'clock,  a  carriage  called  and  conveyed  me 
to  a  wedding  scene. 

The  couple  were  young,  accomplished,  virtuous, 
and  very  tenderly  attached.  A  numerous  company 
of  relatives  and  friends  were  assembled,  and  the  con 
gratulations  were  earnest,  and  the  gayety  contagious. 
There  the  gloom  of  the  morning  was  dispelled  from 
all  hearts  but  mine  :  I  alone  was  impervious  to  the 
festive  beams  that  played  on  so  many  happy  faces. 
There  was  that  in  the  occasion  that  suggested  a  CON 
TRAST,  of  which  no  other  person  was  conscious,  and 
which  I  had  not  fortitude  to  endure.  I  gave  the  par 
ties  my  benediction  with  confidence  in  their  future, 
and  with  an  unselfish  interest  in  their  felicity ;  but 
the  words  echoed  in  my  own  heart,  like  clods  falling 
upon  the  coffin  of  some  cherished  thing. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  withhold  such  confessions  ? 
Many  there  are,  I  know,  who  associate  with  the  sacred 
office  a  stoicism  of  feeling  -to  which  few  can  attain, 
and  which  seems  to  me  as  unbecoming  as  it  is  difficult. 
To  disown  one's  human  sympathies  and  susceptibilities, 
in  embracing  the  work  of  the  ministry,  can  neither 
fit  the  soul  for  its  chosen  sphere,  nor  enhance  the 
sum  of  its  ultimate  acquisitions.  The  experience  of 
the  Catholic  Church  should  teach  us  this,  at  least. 

The  sensations  and  the  sorrows  to  which  I  have 
alluded,  were  realized  twenty  years  since ;  and  when  I 
survey  them  now,  from  the  meridian  of  my  manhood 
—  tracing  their  springs  and  observing  their  tendencies 
with  the  critical  judgment  of  mature  years  — I  find 


I   RESIGN   MY   OFFICE.  257 

that  few  of  the  feelings  and  griefs,  which  memory  has 
saved  from  the  wreck  of  my  youth,  have  borne  purer 
fruit  or  more  hlessed  deeds. 

The  hour  of  service  came. 

The  bells  rang  dull  through  the  sluggish  air,  and  a 
diminutive  line  of  worshippers  responded,  languidly, 
to  their  summons. 

Every  rainy  Sunday  is  marked  in  the  preacher's 
calendar  with  Indian-ink.  He  has  neither  the  ani 
mating  influences  of  his  ordinary  audience,  nor  the 
interested  attention  of  the  "  unterrified  "  few.  The 
stupor  of  loneliness  weighs  down  speaker  and  hearer. 
The  vast  spaces  of  the  unoccupied  church  have  no 
response  for  the  earnest  word  or  enkindled  glance. 
Our  oratory  —  tame  enough  at  all  times  by  reason  of 
its  familiarity — is  now  a  dumb  show.  The  intoler 
able  vacancy  assumes  a  derisive  air,  and  mumbles  our 
words.  These  influences  are  fatal  to  any  hearty  en 
joyment,  or  faithful  application,  of  the  service.  We 
hurry  through  it  as  if  it  were  a  rehearsal,  and  fly 
from  it  as  from  a  task. 

There  are  several  classes  who  avoid  the  church  of 
a  rainy  Sunday :  The  frivolous,  whose  finery  would 
not  appear  to  advantage,  and  whose  curiosity  would 
not  have  its  customary  range  :  The  prudent,  who  are 
afflicted  with  a  class  of  diseases  which  renders  them 
singularly  susceptible  to  a  Sunday  atmosphere :  The 
critical,  who  are  touched  by  the  presentiment  of  a  dull 
sermon,  and  who  are  persuaded  that  they  can  find 
better  entertainment  at  home. 
22* 


258  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

But  I  must  hasten  the  recital  of  the  singular  trans 
actions  of  that  day. 

At  the  .close  of  the  morning  service,  I  particularly 
requested  that  all  the  members  of  the  society  might 
be  present  in  the  afternoon,  as  I  wished  to  communi 
cate  to  them  a  matter  of  considerable  importance. 

Several  persons  waited  and  spoke  to  me,  as  I  left 
the  pulpit. 

Among  them  were  Saturnine  Glum  and  Harry 
Hanson. 

"  Sorrowful  days  !  "  quoth  the  apothecary,  rolling 
his  leaden  eyes  in  a  most  distressing  manner  ;  ' '  the 
parish  is  being  rent  all  to  atoms.  I  never  knew  such 
an  evil  state  of  affairs.  I  'm  satisfied  you  can't  main 
tain  yourself,  Brother  Castor,  among  so  many  violent 
men.  However,"  he  added,  after  a  pause  and  a  pro 
longed  sigh,  "  you  '11  find  men  much  the  same,  every 
where,  I  dare  say, —  an  unhappy,  stiff-necked  race. 
And  it 's  a  fact  a  young  man  can't  learn  too  soon, 
which  is  some  consolation,  Brother  Castor  !  " 

Here  I  succeeded  in  gliding  past  Mr.  Glum,  and  in 
shaking  hands  with  the  blacksmith. 

It  was  a  relief  to  hear  his  hearty  and  manly  voice, 
and  to  see  the  look  of  earnest,  uncompromising  friend 
ship  that  beamed  over  his  honest  countenance. 

"Courage,  Brother  Chester!"  said  he;  "don't 
falter  nor  flag ;  things  are  working  as  well  as  one 
could  expect,  I  believe ;  and  the  parish  will  do  you 
justice  yet." 

I  could  only  press  his  hand  fervently,  in  reply ;  I 
was  not  master  of  my  voice. 


I   RESIGN    MY    OFFICE.  259 

But  old  Silas  Willet  stirred  my  feelings  deepest, 
that  morning,  by  an  inquiry  most  proper  and  natural 
in  itself : 

"Have  you  heard  from  Brother  Arlington's,  to- 
day?" 

"  No." 

The  monosyllable  was  all  I  uttered ;  I  lacked  the 
courage,  or  at  least  the  self-control,  to  question  him 
in  turn. 

But,  just  as  I  left  the  church,  I  heard  the  old  man 
say  —  apparently  in  answer  to  some  interrogation, — 

"  She  was  n't  expected  to  live  through  the  night. — 
Poor  girl !  she  had  strange  ways,  and  did  n't  seem 
happy,  of  late." 

I  walked  home,  through  the  rain  and  the  dark  slug 
gish  air.  How  vividly  it  rose  before  me,  all  the  way 
—  that  pale,  afflicted  face,  which  had  shone  so  ghastly 
under  the  rays  of  the  wintry  moon,  when  last  we 
spoke  together  ! 

In  the  afternoon,  there  is  a  change  in  the  wind, 
and  the  storm  ceases.  I  find  quite  a  large  congrega 
tion  assembled  —  much  anxiety  apparent  to  hear  what 
may  be  said.  After  many  vain  efforts  to  collect  my 
thoughts,  and  quiet  the  tumult  of  my  troubled  feel 
ings,  I  resolve  to  trust  myself,  and  commence  the 
service.  . 

Just  as  I  rise  to  give  out  the  hymn,  a  well-known 
figure  moves  up  the  aisle,  and  takes  possession  of  his 
luxurious  pew. 

His  soft  and  measured  step,  and  the  imposing  dig- 


260  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

nity  of  his  deportment,  attract  all  wandering  glances, 
as  a  magnet  attracts  steel-dust.  But  it  is  not  merely 
respect  and  admiration  which  his  appearance  elicits, 
to-day,  but  sympathy  and  solicitude  ;  for  it  is  known 
that,  during  the  last  few  days,  the  powers  of  life 
and  death  have  fought  in  the  rich  man's  home,  for 
the  possession  of  one  beloved;  and  few  are  aware 
whether  the  contest  is  yet  decided,  or  how. 

But  this  I  notice  —  in  one  quick,  inquiring  glance 

—  that  the  impress  of  grief  is  deep  and  dark  upon 

his   face,    and   that   the    calm,    steady,    self-assured 

look   of  conscious     strength,    has    faded    from     his 

eyes. 

The  unexpected  appearance  of  Mr.  Arlington 
awakened  a  storm  of  sensations,  that  threatened  to 
unman  me  entirely.  Nevertheless,  I  recovered  suf 
ficiently  to  pursue  the  service,  though,  as  I  fear,  with 
obvious  confusion. 

The  sermon  was  to  be  mainly  extemporized,  and 
was  to  consist  of  a  review  of  my  ministry  in  Bubble- 
ton,  and  a  statement  of  the  reasons  that  induced  me 
to  ask  for  its  suspension.  In  the  outset,  I  spoke 
with  hesitation  and  embarrassment, —  my  mind  was 
preoccupied,  and  my  ideas  were  involved ;  and  I 
feared,  more  than  once,  that  it  would  turn  out  an 
absolute  failure.  Finally,  however,  I  began  to  dis 
cern  my  way, —  language  came  under  my  control, 
—  my  voice  assumed  a  steady  and  compact  tone, 
and  I  spoke  with  tolerable  satisfaction  and  effect. 

I  began  by  rehearsing  my  estimate  of  the  minister's 


I   BESIGN   MY   OFFICE.  261 

office  —  what  it  is  in  itself,  and  what  it  requires  of  its 
incumbent.  I  described  my  own  resolutions,  my  ef 
forts,  and  my  trials.  I  showed  that  the  views  and 
interests  of  a  large  portion  of  the  parish  were  such,  as 
to  prevent  the  discharge  of  what  I  considered  my 
duty,  except  at  the  sacrifice  of  all  Christian  harmony 
and  personal  happiness. 

So  long  as  there  remained  a  prospect  of  ultimately 
securing  the  desired  end,  I  had  consented  to  sacrifice 
my  popularity  and  peace  of  mind  ;  but  since  troubles 
had  multiplied  around  me  to  such  an  extent,  as,  appa 
rently,  to  counteract  my  influence  and  paralyze  my 
ambition,  I  deemed  it  most  expedient  and  desirable  to 
withdraw  from  the  office  I  held. 

I  concluded  by  expressing  the  hope,  that  my  resig 
nation  might  not  increase,  but  rather  allay,  the  dis 
sensions,  that  were  agitating  the  parish ;  and  by 
assuring  my  personal  friends  —  while  I  thanked  them 
for  all  their  kindness  to  me  —  that  they  could  not 
render  me  a  more  precious  service,  at  this  time,  than 
by  permitting  me  to  escape  from  the  galling  cares  and 
petty  conflicts  that  made  me  wretched,  to  some  place 
of  quiet  and  of  repose,  where  I  might  recover  my 
cheerfulness  and  courage. 

Like  one  tempest-driven  and  heart-weary,  I  asked 
no  favor  now  but  rest. 

.  While  delivering  this  discourse,  I  did  not  once  see 
Mr.  Arlington's  face. 

While  other  members  of  the  parish  betrayed  their 


262  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

various  emotions,  he  sat  grave  and  silent,  with  his 
eyes  bent  upon  the  ground. 

At  the  close  of  the  service  —  having  requested  those 
interested  in  the  society  to  remain  in  their  seats  —  I 
formally  tendered  my  resignation,  to  take  effect  in 
four  weeks. 

Exhausted  and  dispirited,  I  sat  down,  and  awaited 
the  action  of  the  meeting. 


HAKRY  HANSON  ADDRESSING  THE  CHURCH  MEETING. 


XXXIV. 

THE   DECISIVE   HOUK. 

FOR  the  space  of  a  minute,  there  was  the  most  pro 
found  silence.  Both  friends  and  enemies  were  taken 
by  surprise. 

At  length,  Mr.  Gleason  rose,  and  moved  the  ac 
ceptance  of  my  resignation. 

Mr.  Wilkins  seconded  the  motion. 

This  action  brought  up  three  or  four  of  my  friends, 
by  a  common  impulse.  In  vain  I  signed  to  them  to 
remain  silent ;  they  had  espoused  my  cause,  and  were 
resolved  to  prove  their  devotion. 

I  saw,  in  the  resolute  glance,  and  compressed  lip 
and  sternly-knitted  brow,  the  zeal  of  partisanship 
spreading  from  face  to  face ;  and  dreaded,  with  good 
reason,  the  contact  of  those  determined  wills  and  ex 
cited  tempers. 

I  interposed  my  voice,  and  my  entreaties,  to  avert 
the  impending  collision.  They  all  took  their  seats, 
with  the  exception  of  Harry  Hanson. 

The  blacksmith  stood  erect,  with  the  firmness  of  a 
granite  pillar  —  the  majesty  of  his  stature  enhanced 


264  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

by  a  glow  of  excited  feeling  that  animated  every  lin 
eament  of  his  countenance. 

All  eyes  rested  upon  him,  with  an  interest  not  to  be 
disguised  ;  for  he  was  an  individual  universally  known 
in  Bubbleton,  and  this  was  his  first  appearance  in  a 
parish  meeting. 

"  Hear  me,"  said  Harry  Hanson,  speaking  in  a 
clear,  resounding  voice,  and  stretching  forth  his 
brawny  arm;  "I  am  but  a  stranger  among  you, 
gentlemen,  and  some  of  you  may  think  it  more  be 
coming  in  me  to  hold  my  peace.  But.  Lord  !  I've  an 
interest  in  this  question,  gentlemen,  that  makes  it 
necessary  for  me  to  speak.  I  am  greatly  surprised 
by  Brother  Chester's  resolution.  I  thought  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  weather  the  gale.  I  think  he 
must  be  influenced  by  some  false  impressions,  as  re 
gards  the  feelings  of  the  parish  at  large.  I  believe 
he  must  have  over-rated  the  adverse  current,  and 
under-rated  that  which  is  favorable.  I  believe  that  a 
patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  on  his  part,  and  a 
moderate  exercise  of  reason  and  conscience,  on  our 
part,  will  bring  us  all  into  smooth  water,  sooner  or 
later.  For  one,  I  shan't  consent  to- let  Brother  Ches 
ter  go.  He's  the  only  minister  in  Bubbleton  I  care 
a  fig  for,  and  the  only  one  whose  preaching  does  me 
any  good  ;  and,  therefore,  I  hope  he  may  be  per 
suaded  to  withdraw  his  resignation." 

Here  the  blacksmith  paused,  but  remained  stand 
ing,  as  in  momentary  irresolution  ;  while  Mr.  Gleason 


THE    DECISIVE   HOUR.  265 

and  Mr.  Wilkins  conferred  in  whispers,  with  bent 
heads  and  flushed  faces. 

Mr.  Arlington  still  remained  silent,  his  eyes  bent 
steadfastly  on  the  ground. 

Presently  Harry  Hanson,  overcoming  his  hesita 
tion,  resumed : 

"  As  regards  the  points  of  difference  between  Broth 
er  Chester  and  part  of  the  parish  —  touching  the 
matter  and  tone  of  preaching  —  I  should  like  to  offer 
an  opinion, — especially  as  I  once,  myself,  entertained 
the  notion  I  am  now  going  to  speak  against. 

"Everybody  knows  what  the  avowed  OBJECT  of 
preaching  is  ;  but  if  it  don't  answer  that  object  —  if  it 
don't  make  us  better  —  if  it  don't  pull  down  our 
pride  and  build  up  our  virtue  —  Lord  !  what 's  the 
use  of  paying  for  it,  or  listening  to  it?  " 

These  words  fixed  the  attention  of  every  hearer. 

Mr.  Hanson  continued : 

"Let  me  illustrate  the  idea,  gentlemen  :  Let  me 
f  compare  the  preacher  to  a  physician,  which,  if  I  re 
member  right,  will  be  according  to  the  Gospel.  Now, 
suppose  I  am  taken  sick,  and  I  send  for  Doctor  Gull. 
What  do  I  reasonably  expect  from  this,  deep-sighted 
gentleman '?  That  he  will  sit  down  and  tacitly  assume 
that  I  have  no  sickness  at  all,  while  he  expatiates  on 
the  awful  disease  of  some  person  over  the  way,  or  pre 
scribes  for  somebody's  malady  who  died  a  thousand 
years  ago  1  By  no  means  —  I  expect  no  such  thing. 
For  it  is  self-evident,  that  Doctor  Gull  might  continue 
to  visit  me.  in  this  manner,  till  doom's-day,  without 
23 


266  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

my  realizing  any  benefit  whatever  from  his  skill. 
What  I  do  expect,  is,  that  he  will  examine  ME,  per 
sonally  and  thoroughly,  and  kill  my  disease  if  he  can, 
however  painful  his  treatment  may  be. 

"  Well,  now  take  the  preacher,  who  is  a  doctor, 
too,  though  he  gets  his  diploma  from  another  place. 
We  send  for  him;  of  course  we  are  sick,  or  we 
should  n't  want  him  at  all. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  I  want  to  know  what  you  ex 
pected  of  Doctor  Chester  here  ?  You  assumed  that 
you  were  sick  when  you  engaged  his  services,  and  he 
—  knowing  that  you  were  —  treated  you  as  a  wise 
and  faithful  doctor  should ;  and  now,  behold  the  re 
turn  you  have  made  !  Finding  the  prescription  bitter, 
you  have  rejected  it  altogether,  and  taken  up  clubs  to 
beat  the  honest  physician  for  having  offered  it !  To 
say  nothing  about  the  ingratitude  and  injustice  of 
your  course,  how  do  you  ever  expect  to  get  CURED,  at 
this  rate,  gentlemen? 

' '  Allow  me  to  pursue  my  comparison  further  still : 

"  Suppose  a  very  destructive  epidemic  appears  in 
Bubbleton,  and  that  hundreds  of  our  citizens  are 
prostrated  by  it  at  once.  What  is  Doctor  Gull's  ob 
vious  duty,  in  such  a  critical  time  ? — Isn't  it  to  cure 
all  the  people  he  can,  and  stop  the  course  of  the 
malady  as  soon  as  he  can  1  To  be  sure  it  is.  But 
what  if  Doctor  Gull  —  instead  of  applying  his  skill  to 
any  of  these  cases  —  should  go  through  the  town 
telling  us  how  such  an  epidemic  once  raged,  say,  in 
Babylon,  and  what  a  desolation  it  caused  in  that  great 


THE  DECISIVE   HOUR.  267 

city  1  Would  anybody  be  satisfied  with  Doctor 
Gull's  course  ?  Would  anybody  pay  him  for  such  an 
idle,  useless  service  ?  Wouldn't  everybody  feel  that 
he  had  shown  himself  culpably  indifferent  to  the  pub 
lic  welfare?  Ah,  more  than  this  —  wouldn't  the 
public  indignation  drive  him  from  the  town,  as  a 
heartless  trifler  and  an  all-offending  nuisance  ? 

"Well,  gentlemen,  Doctor  Chester  finds,  in  his 
line  of  practice,  just  such  an  epidemic.  We  call  it 
Intemperance.  It  is  wasting  the  community  like  a 
plague.  How  many  of  its  victims  we  have  all  seen  ! 
What  a  caravan  of  woes  moves  in  its  train  ! 

"  Doctor  Chester,  here,  pursues  the  same  course  in 
his  department,  which  we  have  agreed  Doctor  Gull 
should  pursue  in  his.  Yet,  what  a  hue  and  cry  you 
have  raised  against  him  !  Lord !  you  're  in  the 
wrong,  gentlemen  —  utterly  in  the  wrong. 

"  For  my  part,  I  entirely  approve  Brother  Ches 
ter's  manner  of  preaching ;  he  talks  to  the  point,  and 
I  see  at  once  what  he  means ;  he  don't  try  to  whip 
the  devil  round  the  stump,  and  I  respect  him  all  the 
more,  when  his  Gospel  sword  lunges  right  through 
some  pet  vice  of  mine,  that  caji't  be  covered  or 
defended. 

"Gentlemen,  I'm  not  going  to  detain  you  much 
longer;  but  there's  one  thing  we've  got  to  bear  in 
mind :  —  So  long  as  we  assume  to  be  sinners — which 
we  know  we  are — we  must  expect  to  be  dealt  with 
as  such ;  and  the  more  our  consciences  are  pricked, 
the  better  it  will  be  for  us  in  the  end. 


268  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

' '  The  worse  a  man's  case  is,  the  more  painful  must 
be  the  remedy,  and  the  louder  will  be  his  roaring ! 

1 '  And  so  all  our  railing  against  the  physician  — 
though  it  may  give  him  trouble,  for  the  time  being — 
will,  in  the  end,  only  serve  to  call  attention  to  our 
own  maladies,  and  fix  the  scorn  of  the  world  upon 
us!" 

The  blacksmith  sat  down. 

The  effect  of  his  reasoning  was  obvious  in  more  than 
one  bowed  head  and  downcast  look. 

Those  two  prominent  members  of  the  "  opposition" 
—  Mr.  Gleason  and  Mr.  Wilkins  —  sat,  pale  and 
unmanned,  covered  with  astonishment  and  impotent 
resentment.  Their  aspect  was  pitiful  in  the  extreme. 

As  for  myself,  I  was  amazed  at  the  ready  resources 
and  calm  bravery  displayed  by  Harry  Hanson,  in 
this  very  effective  address — much  as  I  had  previously 
observed  him,  and  high  as  he  had  stood  in  my  esteem. 

After  a  protracted  silence,  Mr.  Arlington  —  who 
had  sat,  during  all  this  time,  with  bowed  head  — 
slowly  rose. 

Such  an  expression  as  his  face  then  bore — as  he 
turned  it  sadly  to,  the  searching  light — was  never 
seen  on  that  placid  front  before. 

A  breathless,  wondering  curiosity  pervaded  the 
assembly,  and  hushed  the  church  to  utter  silence. 

The  rich  man  hesitated — struggled,  apparently, 
with  himself — and  then  spoke  as  follows  : 

"  Brethren,  since  I  last  appeared  among  you,  my 
views  on  several  subjects  have  been  changed.  The 


THE   DECISIVE   HOUR.  269 

Almighty  has  spoken  to  me  from  a  cloud,  as  he  did  of 
old  unto  Moses ;  and  what  I  denied  in  the  day  of 
prosperity,  I  must  now  profess  in  the  gloom  of  afflic 
tion. 

"  I  agree  with  the  sentiments  of  Brother  Hanson, 
which  he  has  just  set  forth  in  so  impressive  a  manner. 
With  him,  and  with  others,  whose  friendship  our 
young  pastor  has  secured,  I  unite  myself,  in  request 
ing  that  he  will  immediately  withdraw  his  resigna 
tion. 

' '  And,  brethren,  in  order  that  he  may  do  this 
cheerfully,  and  with  confidence  in  our  future  support, 
I  move  that  all  present  unite  in  proffering  the 
request !  " 

The  motion  Avas  promptly  seconded,  and  it  passed  — 
Mr.  Gleason  and  Mr.  Wilkins  alone  dissenting ;  though 
they,  afterwards,  coincided  with  the  popular  will,  and 
renewed  their  expressions  of  friendliness. 

My  readers  can  imagine  my  feelings  far  better  than 
I  can  describe  them.  Such  a  result  I  had  never 
counted  on,  even  for  an  instant.  It  threw  me  into 
the  most  complete  confusion. 

Of  course,  I  withdrew  my  resignation  —  there  was 
no  other  course  open  to  me, —  and  when  my  old  and 
true  friends  crowded  to  my  side,  with  their  warm  con 
gratulations,  and  generous  expressions  of  esteem,  I 
felt  my  spirit  renewed,  and  faith  and  resolution 
returning. 

But  all  this  brought  no  forgetfulness  of  that  PER 
SONAL  BEREAVEMENT,  the  sense  of  which  swept  deep 
23* 


270  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

and  dark  through  my  soul,  when  Mr.  Arlington  took 
my  hand,  and  said : 

"  Brother  Chester,  I  am  a  grief-stricken  man;  — 
come  with  me  to  my  home,  and  learn  how  wretched  I 
am!" 

So  the  rich  man's  door  was  to  open  to  me  again,  in 
renewed  confidence  and  affection ;  but  what  was  left 
to  make  that  restitution  precious  ? 


XXXV. 

MR.  ARLINGTON'S  HOME. 

As  Mr.  Arlington  and  I  issued  from  the  church, 
together,  on  that  memorable  afternoon,  I  noticed  that 
the  sun  —  whose  rays  had  smote  the  murky  atmos 
phere  all  day  in  vain  —  now  beamed  forth  in  perfect 
splendor ;  and,  like  virtue,  emerging  in  triumph  from 
the  eclipse  of  suspicion,  rode  on  serene  in  its  pathway 
of  light. 

If  my  mind  had  not  been  occupied  by  the  uncer 
tainty  and  fear  of  a  great  affliction,  I  might  have 
thought  of  the  phenomenon,  perhaps,  as  an  omen  of 
brighter  days  for  both  pastor  and  parish ;  for  it  be 
came  instantly  apparent  that  the  sudden  change  in 
Mr.  Arlington's  views  and  position,  would  work  a 
corresponding  change  in  the  views  and  position  of 
many  members  of  the  society. 

Mr.  Arlington  was  not  only  the  wealthiest  man  in 
the  parish,  but  the  most  active  and  influential, —  active 
because  he  loved  a  conspicuous  and  commanding  posi 
tion,  and  influential,  by  virtue  of  his  disciplined  man 
ners,  his  winning  social  qualities,  and  a  certain  dignity 


272  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

of  deportment,  that  awed  by  its  unconscious  authority, 
while  it  did  not  provoke  resistance  by  any  betrayal 
of  arrogance.  Such  a  man  exerts  a  personal  sway, 
little  less  than  despotic,  over  a  large  class  of  minds ; 
and  the  completeness  of  his  authority  is  seen  in  the 
fact,  that  his  subjects  have  no  disturbing  conscious 
ness  of  being  ruled.  It  requires  strong  individuality, 
and  clear  perceptions,  to  resist  and  scatter  the  subtle 
ties  of  an  influence  so  amiable,  and  yet  so  persistent. 

Mr.  Arlington  did  not  speak  until  we  had  reached 
his  house ;  and  I  —  reluctant  to  lift  the  veil  within 
whose  sombre  shadowings  he  walked  —  forbore  to 
question  his  sorrow. 

I  was  sensible  of  a  momentary  feeling  of  relief, 
when  I  saw  that  the  door  was  not  craped. 

Again  I  entered  that  house,  which  contained  the 
elements  of  so  much  hope  and  dread  for  my  own  heart 
to  wrestle  with, —  of  so  much  poignant  regret  and 
unavailing  repentance  for  him,  who  had  built  its  walls 
as  a  bulwark  against  his  cares. 

Mr.  Arlington  led  me  into  a  private  apartment, 
shaded  by  shutters  closely  drawn,  and  animated  only 
by  a  few  brands  that  smouldered  in  the  grate. 

"  Brother  Chester,"  said  he,  with  a  melancholy 
utterance,  "  I  know  you  are  above  the  remembrance 
of  the  wrong  I  have  done  you,  or  the  trouble  I  have 
occasioned  you.  I  have  offered  some  proof,  this  after 
noon,  of  my  restored  friendship  for  you;  and  your 
presence  here,  in  this  afflictive  season,  testifies  that  all 
differences  between  us  ,  are  reconciled.  Nay, —  your 


MR.  ARLINGTON'S  HOME.  273 

looks  answer  me,  and  it  is  enough.  Wait  here  for  a 
few  moments;  I  will  soon  return  for  you." 

He  left  the  room,  and  I  heard  his  slow,  muffled  step 
ascending  the  staircase. 

Left  companion  of  my  own  feelings,  I  tried  to  nerve 
my  soul,  by  prayer  and  faith,  to  meet  with  becoming 
fortitude  its  impending  trial. 

There  are  few  emergencies  in  which  a  Christian  — 
renewing  in  his  filial  breast  the  image  of  God,  and 
subsiding  into  the  great  THOUGHT  of  the  Divine  pater 
nity  —  will  not  find  the  calmness  of  a  holy  trust  be 
ginning  to  pervade  his  nature,  and  a  mysterious 
strength  sustaining  him  as  by  an  invisible  arm.  I 
felt  this  influence  spreading  over  the  troubled  surface 
of  my  soul,  and  its  fears  and  anxieties  grew  calm. 

As  my  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  obscurity  of 
the  room,  I  noticed  that  a  picture  was  suspended 
against  the  opposite  wall.  It  had  been  veiled  by  a 
drapery  of  lace,  which  was  now  folded  down  from  the 
upper  half  of  the  canvas. 

I  recognized  it  as  a  superbly  painted  portrait  of 
Miss  Arlington,  which  I  had  often  seen,  in  company 
with  the  other  family  likenesses,  hung  on  the  parlor 
wall. 

Its  removal  to  this  room  —  where  the  rich  man  had 
probably  shut  himself  up  to  struggle  with  his  accusing 
thoughts,  or  to  cherish  his  expiatory  sufferings  —  was 
highly  significant  and  impressive. 

I  was  thinking  of  this,  when  Mr.  Arlington  re 
turned. 


274  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

He  sat  down,  with  his  face  carefully  averted  from 
the  light. 

"  Strengthen  me.  Brother  Chester/'  said  he  —  and 
his  voice  was  strangely  low  and  humble  —  ' '  with 
your  prayers  and  your  better  faith.  My  child  yet 
lives,  but  we  are  told  that  she  cannot  recover.  Her 
disease,  as  you  are  probably  aware,  is  of  the  mind, 
rather  than  of  the  body ;  it  came  of  prolonged  mental 
anxieties,  and  was  precipitated  by  a  terrible  excite 
ment.  It  has  rent -her  constitution,  and  seriously 
threatened  her  reason.  I  have  never  seen  sufferings 
so  complicated  and  dreadful  as  hers,  nor  sufferings  so 
unmerited." 

He  paused,  and  I  exerted  myself  to  make  a  becom 
ing  reply. 

But  he  knew  not  how  largely  I  shared  his  grief,  or 
he  had  not  looked  to  me  for  comfort. 

"  I  wish  you  to  see  her,"  he  resumed,  "  and  calm 
as  best  you  may  her  remaining  hours.  She  has  men 
tioned  you.  and  I  think  you  have  influenced  her  judg 
ment,  and  her  views  of  life,  more  than  you  may  have 
supposed." 

I  told  him  how  sincerely  I  desired  to  serve  them 
all,  in  this  sad  experience,  according  to  the  humble 
abilities  I  possessed,  and  how  prayerfully  I  would 
strive  to  prepare  the  mind  of  her  whom  God  had  sum 
moned,  for  the  change  that  impended. 

"  But  first,  you  must  know  the  true  source  of  this 
calamity,"  said  Mr.  Arlington,  passing  his  hand  over 


MR.  ARLINGTON'S  HOME.  275 

his  face,  and  resting  it  upon  his  heart,  with  a  sigh  of 
pain. 

"  I  must  confide  to  you  a  revelation  of  my  own 
life  —  a  sad,  humiliating  disclosure  of  my  own  world- 
liness  and  irreligion  —  for  from  me,  my  child  not 
only  derived  life,  but  all  the  agencies  that  have  been 
poisoning  and  blighting  it,  from  the  first  quickening 
of  her  intelligence. 

"  It  is  strange  that  I  did  not  observe,  eaflier,  how 
inevitably  all  this  must  follow, —  but  the  evil  of  my 
heart  blinded  my  understanding,  and  I  walked  in  a 
maze  of  darkness,  unconscious  of  the  retribution  that 
was  slowly  girding  me  with  its  bands." 


XXXYI. 

% 

CONFESSION. 

I  WOULD  have  saved  Mr.  Arlington  the  pain  of 
this  meditated  confession,  but  he  persisted  in  his  reso 
lution. 

There  is  that  in  the  very  nature  of  true  penitence, 
which  prompts  to  confession.  The  awakened  heart 
seeks  one,  beneath  heaven,  to  whom  it  may  confide 
the  acknowledgment  of  its  errors^  and  who  shall  bear 
witness,  as  it  were,  to  the  depth  and  vehemence  of 
its  contrition.  It  is  the  first  step  in  the  work  of 
atonement. 

"You  are  aware,"  said  Mr.  Arlington,  "that,  in 
the  world's  eye,  and  judged  by  the  world's  standard, 
I  am  a  respectable,  prosperous,  and  fortunate  man. 
Prosperous,  I  certainly  am,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  term.  I  have  made  a  fortune  and  a  position  for 
myself  and  mine,  for  which  most  men  strive  in  vain. 
I  am  rich,  and  men  defer  to  my  opinions,  not  because 
they  are  wise,  but  because  I  am  powerful. 

"  But  this  very  prosperity,  for  which  I  am  envied 
by  superficial  men,  has  proved  my  snare. 


CONFESSION.  277 

"My  wealth  has  risen  —  a  hard,  impervious,  glit 
tering  wall  —  between  my  heart  and  its  Creator ;  and 
the  beams  of  the  celestial  sun  have  been  denied  access 
to  my  soul. 

' '  I  have  grown  hardened  and  indifferent  toward 
those  higher  objects,  for  which,  as  all  rational  men 
agree,  we  ought  chiefly  to  live.  The  sense  of  right 
and  the  ideal  of  duty  have  become  more  and  more 
indistinct  and  weak  —  as  I  suppose  they  always  do  — 
by  being  plied  with  incessant  sophisms,  and  by  being 
continually  over-ridden.  I  have  learned  the  fatal  art 
of  compromising  with  evil  things,  and  have  acquired 
the  habit  of  putting  rigid  principles  aside,  as  imprac 
ticable  speculations. 

"  In  a  word,  I  have  allowed  my  good  fortune  to 
seduce  me  —  to  pervert  my  moral  sense,  and  to  es 
trange  my  heart  from  its  God,  and  from  its  earliest 
and  best  convictions. 

"  I  was  not  conscious  of  my  decline,  in  these  re 
spects. —  at  least,  I  was  never  startled  by  the  thought 
of  any  serious  retrogression, — for  I  kept  up  my  formal 
connection  with  religion,  and  was  constant  in  my  at 
tendance  upon  all  its  ordinances.  It  did  not  occur  to 
me  —  as  it  has  since  —  that  a  mere  outward  observ 
ance  of  religious  rites,  when  the  blood  of  the  heart 
does  not  pulsate  in  them,  is  the  most  dangerous  se 
duction  of  true  piety,  since  it  lulls  the  heart  into  a 
false  sense  of  security,  and  makes  it  careless  of  the 
spirit  by  employing  it  with  the  form. 

"  Occasionally,  it  is  true,  my  conscience  would  get 
24 


278  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

disturbed,  and  my  dormant  convictions  temporally  re 
vived,  by  some  pungent  sentence  from  the  preacher ; 
but  I  resisted  these  motions  of  my  better  nature,  and 
they  troubled  me  less  and  less. 

' '  Thus  I  have  continued  to  live  —  a  cold,  comfort 
able,  worldly  life  —  its  splendor,  that  of  money  —  its 
attractions,  those  of  Fashion  —  its  consolations,  the 
esteem  and  deference  of  men. 

' '  And  thus,  to  all  outward  appearance,  I  have  been 
a  fortunate  man. 

"0,  there  is  no  folly  so  great  as  the  wisdom  by 
which  the  world  prides  itself  on  being  guided !  It  is 
what  you  preachers  often  say,  but,  alas  !  you  find  few 
who  will  credit  the  saying,  unless  it  be  those,  who, 
like  myself,  bear  witness  to  it  with  tears  ! 

"  Thus  I  have  lived  : 

"And,  meanwhile,  GOD  —  whose  processes  are  so 
inscrutable  and  so  awful  —  has  been  preparing  an 
invisible  retribution  in  the  bosom  of  my  home. 

"  He  has  chosen  a  life  dearer  to  me  than  my  own 
-  yes,  he  has  chosen  the  heart  of  my  pure,  high- 
minded  and  noble  child,  as  the  depository  of  his  judg 
ments  —  as  the  minister  of  his  just  and  unavoidable 
resentment.  . 

"  In  the  agonies  I  have  been  doomed  to  witness  in 
yonder  room,  where  her  young  life  is  wasting  hour  by 
hour,  and  in  the  self-reproach  and  vain  regret  that 
will  follow  me  to  the  grave,  I  reap  the  terrible  reward 
of  slighted  opportunities  and  perverted  means." 

Here  Mr.  Arlington's  fortitude  abandoned  him,  and 


CONFESSION.  279 

he  was  obliged  to  walk  the  room  for  some  moments, 
ere  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  resume. 

"  It  appears  that  my  daughter  —  in  the  simplicity 
and  sincerity  of  her 'nature  —  with  her  clear  percep 
tions  and  practical  estimate  of  things — learned  to  rate 
my  religion  at  its  true  value. 

"I  do  not  mean  that  she  has  ever  voluntarily  failed 
in  due  respect  for  me,  or  in  due  affection,  but  that  she 
saw,  intuitively,  as  it  were,  how  shallow  and  unreal 
my  religious  faith  and  principles  were.  She  saw,  in 
my  case,  and,  I  fear,  in  that  of  too  many  others,  how 
lightly  the  most  solemn  things  were  held  and  used, 
and  how  little  the  most  terrible  convictions  appeared 
to  influence  our  lives. 

"  As  her  mind  grew,  and  her  observation  became 
more  extended  and  critical,  she  grew  accustomed  to 
reason  on  these  things ;  and  the  consequence  was  a 
growing  suspicion  that  religion,  in  all  its  forms,  was 
merely  traditional,  or  the  growth  of  human  specula 
tions,  fears  and  desires. 

"  How  could  it  be  the  reality  it  assumed  to  be,  and 
yet  affect  men  so  little  ?  Who  could  help  distrusting 
its  verities,  while  its  fruit  appeared  so  meagre  ? 

' '  This  fatal  scepticism  —  thus  growing  up  with  her 
maturing  judgment,  and  infusing  its  poison  into  the 
sources  of  her  life  —  was,  as  I  now  perceive,  the  daily, 
PRACTICAL  lesson  which  my  own  life  afforded  her.  I 
gave  the  premises,  in  my  familiar,  but  perverted  char 
acter,  and  she  drew  from  them  a  legitimate  conclu 
sion  ;  the  error  was  all  mine. 


280  BUBBLBTON    PARISH. 

"  It  was  not  until  about  a  year  since,  that  I  began 
to  observe  in  her  some  evidence  of  an  unquiet  mind. 

"  On  several  occasions,  she  startled  me  with  some 
peculiar  observation. 

' '  I  saw  that  she  avoided  society,  and  read  grave 
books ;  and  grew  addicted  to  revery.  She.  was  less 
often  at  the  piano,  and  confined  more  to  her  own 
chamber.  Her  mother  found  her,  more  than  once,  in 
tears  that  could  not  be  accounted  for. 

"  So  great  a  stranger  had  I  become  to  my  own 
spiritual  nature,  that  I  was  slow  in  interpreting  the 
struggles  transpiring  in  hers.  And  even  had  I  sus 
pected  the  nature  of  her  trouble,  I  must  have  shrunk 
from  partaking  of  so  sacred  a  confidence,  so  unfitted 
was  I  to  guide  her  into  peace. 

"My  daughter's  doubts  did  not  congeal  into  abso 
lute  unbelief.  They  were  disturbed,  now  and  then, 
by  the  spectacle  of  real  piety  —  by  an  example  of 
resolute  Christian  devotion,  that  seemed  to  argue  the 
reality  of  religion,  and  that  inspired  her  with  mo 
mentary  hope.  Brother  Stringent' s  course,  and 
yours,  were  cases  that  could  not  be  reconciled  with 
the  sceptical  conclusions  she  had  drawn  from  other 
men's  lives.  Oracular  Blunt,  likewise,  seemed  to 
testify  to  the  power  and  verity  of  religion,  with  a  force 
not  easily  overcome. 

"You  doubtless  remember  the  interest  your  ser 
mon  on  truth  elicited  in  her  mind,  and  how  earnestly 
she  defended  you,  with  the  example  of  John  Knox, 


CONFESSION.  281 

against   murmurs  "which   I  am  ashamed    for  having 
uttered. 

"  Thus  —  driven  to  and  fro  by  alternate  doubt  and 
hope,'  and  holding  that  serious  view  of  life  that  made 
rest  impossible  so  long  as  assurance  was  not  obtained 
—  my  poor  child  has  fought  the  dreary  fight,  without 
sympathy  and  without  assistance." 

"No,"  exclaimed  I,  interrupting  him,  "not  with 
out  sympathy ;  for  I  have  watched  her  course  for 
months  —  suspecting  what  a  warfare  it  was  that  she 
was  conducting,  and  praying  that  she  might  be  led  to 
the  perfect  light." 

"  Ah,  then,"  he  replied,  "  I  see  what  it  meant  — 
that  mention  of  your  name  in  the  wild  agony  of  her 
delirium,  when  I  thought,  in  the  blindness  of  my 
mind,  and  the  intolerance  of  my  judgment,  that  you 
had  strove  to  influence  her  for  less  sacred  ends; — but 
mind  it  not  now  —  let  that  be  forgotten  !  " 

"Yes,  let  it  be  forgotten,"  murmured  I;  but  my 
thought  was  not  his  —  the  proud  and  fallen  man,  who 
might  have  crossed  my  love  as  remorselessly  as  death 
was  now  about  to  cross  it ! 

There  was  silence  between  us,  as  if  heart  spoke  to 
heart ;  and  perhaps  it  did. 

At  last  he  spoke  : 

"  You  conversed  with  her,  on  the  unhappy  state  of 
her  mind?" 

"  Once  —  and  but  briefly." 

"Recently?" 

24* 


282  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  her :  it  was  the  evening  I 
conducted  her  from  Dr.  Screamer's  church." 

I  then  made  some  explanations  concerning  the  trans 
actions  of  that  night. 

Mr.  Arlington  listened  with  absorbing  interest. 

My  statement  relieved  him  of  some  uncertainties 
he  had  felt,  in  consequence  of  not  having  heard  any 
authentic  account  of  the  affair,  further  than  was  con 
tained  in  my  published  card,  which,  in  the  nature  of 
the  case,  could  not  embrace  all  the  particulars  that 
interested  him. 

"  Then  little  more  remains  for  me  to  add,"  resumed 
Mr.  Arlington :  ' '  your  knowledge  of  the  state  of 
mind  in  which  you  left  her,  that  night,  will  prepare 
you  for  what  ensued. 

"  I  had  observed  my  daughter's  altered  demeanor, 
for  a  considerable  time ;  but  my  interest  in  her  was 
becoming  less  tender  than  usual,  for  the  reason 
that  she  had  grown  accustomed  to  controvert  my 
views,  on  certain  subjects,  and  I  felt  a  secret  irrita 
tion  at  encountering  so  firm  an  opposition  in  my  own 
household. 

' '  My  retribution  had  already  commenced ;  for  I 
was  storing  up  additional  elements  of  repentance,  in 
my  secret  resentment  against  her,  whose  simple  truth 
fulness  was  ever  confuting  my  sophistry. 

"  Some  weeks  since  —  as  you  know  —  she  ceased 

to  accompany  us  to  church.     She  gave  no  reasons 

-  except   a   simple    preference    for    remaining    at 

home.     Mrs.  Arlington  was  troubled  by  the  caprice 


CONFESSION.  283 

—  as  we  regarded  it  —  but  I  was  secretly  pleased ; 
for  I  naturally  attributed  to  the  influence  of  your 
preaching,  the  views  and  disposition  she  had  mani 
fested  in  conflict  with  my  own. 

"I  became  aware  of  her  attending,  occasionally, 
the  meetings  at  Dr.  Screamer's  church;  but  no 
thought  of  the  danger  to  which  she  might  be  exposed, 
occurred  to  me.  I  knew  almost  nothing  of  her  spir 
itual  struggles,  and  was  not  prepared  to  estimate  her 
peril. 

"  She  knew  that  /professed  a  more  rational  faith, 
and  I  foolishly  supposed  that  that  would  furnish  her 
with  an  impregnable  defence  ! 

"  I  hope  there  is  not  another  parent  in  the  parish 
who  cherishes  such  a  fallacy.  I  now  see  that  it  is 
not  enough  for  my  children  to  know  that  I  am  con 
vinced  of  the  truth  of  our  peculiar  faith  :  They  must 
know  the  grounds,  the  evidences  of  my  belief,  or  they 
cannot  possess  the  assurance  which  I  have.  If  they 
derive  their  faith  from  me,  they  have  only  a  human 
authority  for  their  trust ;  but  if  I  teach  them  the  sa 
cred  sources  whence  it  is  derived,  they  will  know  that 
it  is  authorized  by  God. 

"  All  this  I  have  neglected,  and  behold  what  a 
calamitous  consequence  is  visited  upon  me  ! 

"  The  evening  before  this  sorrow  burst  upon  us,  I 
was  unusually  depressed.  I  might  have  foreboded 
something,  but  that  the  even  and  prosperous  current 
of  my  life,  had  divested  my  mind  of  all  apprehensions. 

"  I  left  the  store  at  an  early  hour,  and  came  home. 


284  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

I  did  not  see  Louisa ;  but  she  was  so  frequently  in 
the  retirement  of  her  chamber,  that  I  thought  nothing 
of  her  absence. 

"Mrs.  Arlington,  I  believe,  was  not  aware  of  her 
being  away  from  home. 

' '  I  retired  presently,  but  a  vague  uneasiness  pre 
vented  me  from  sleeping  until  the  night  was  far  gone. 

"I  awoke,  about  sunrise,  and  found  the  house  in 
commotion. 

"  My  poor  child  had  been  seized  with  a  violent  ill 
ness,  which  manifested  itself,  chiefly,  in  terrible  pains 
darting  through  the  brain.  Her  cries  had  already 
roused  the  family. 

' '  I  doubt  whether  I  can  speak  of  what  followed. 

' '  Delirium  ensued,  almost  immediately.  In  her 
frantic  and  agonized  exclamations,  she  revealed  the 
long  and  bitter  conflict  of  her  doubts  and  hopes.  The 
history  of  her  afflictive  experience  was  thus  rehearsed, 
with  all  the  tragical  accompaniments  of  madness. 

' '  I  heard  and  saw  —  at  first,  with  the  stunning 
insensibility  that  usually  precedes  the  full  conviction 
of  a  great  sorrow.  But  unconscious  allusions  were 
made  that  pierced  my  worldly  heart,  and  rent  the  veil 
from  my  understanding. 

"  I  tried  to  force  the  responsibility  elsewhere —  to 
make  it  rest  with  you  ;  for  her  frenzy  teemed  with 
allusions  to  you,  and  to  some  exciting  scene  in  which 
you  had  been  associated  with  her.  But  it  was  in 
vain.  My  resentment  against  you  soon  melted  in 
juster  and  severer  convictions  of  my  own  culpability. 


CONFESSION.  285 

Her  physician  said  that  her  disease  was  the  growth 
of  years  —  a  malady  of  the  mind,  that  defied  his  sci 
ence,  and  must  run  its  violent  career,  obedient  to  its 
peculiar  causes. 

"I  saw  —  I  felt — that  it  was  my  work.  I  had  no 
refuge  from  condemnation.  God  spoke  to  me  in  her 
unconscious  cries  and  accusations. —  She — tender  and 
innocent  and  noble, —  she  —  poisoned  and  blighted 
thus,  in  the  first  bloom  of  her  womanhood,  for  my  sins 

—  was  become  the  instrument  of  Divine  retribution  ! 

' '  All  this  I  felt  and  realized,  as  though  an  angel 
from  heaven  had  declared  it  to  me. 

"  And  thus,  Brother  Chester,  you  find  me  a  changed* 
man.  Pray  for  me,  for  I  cannot  tell  you  all  my  grief 

—  all  my  repentance,  or  my  desolation." 

His  bowed  head  and  quaking  frame  —  his  high, 
commanding  brow  so  overcast  and  humble  —  they  ap 
pealed  to  me,  as  the  form  of  man  never  appealed 
before  ! 

Mr.  Arlington  suddenly  aroused  himself,  and,  with 
a  strong  effort  of  self-command,  exclaimed  : 

"My  sorrow  is  selfish,  Brother  Chester:  no,  it  is 
not  me  —  it  is  my  child  who  needs  your  oflBces  now. 
Come ! " 

"  Brother  Arlington,  you  have  not  told  me  all, — 
is  she  conscious  ?  " 

"  Fully  conscious,  now." 

"  And  knows  that  she  has  been  called  hence." 

"  I  believe  she  knows." 

"  Has  she  expressed  a  fear  of  death?  " 


286  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

"  Not  since  her  reason  returned.  She  is  thought 
ful  and  calm ;  and  far  more  beautiful  than  when  she 
sat  for  this." 

He  pointed  to  the  portrait,  and  passed  slowly  out 
—  leading  me  to  the  chamber  of. the  dying. 

0,  human  heart,  be  still !  Deny  thyself,  and  prove 
thy  faith  in  God.  Through  the  valley  and  shadow, 
march,  as  one  whom  Divine  hands  have  consecrated, 
and  the  tears  of  affliction  washed  pure  from  earthly 
soil. 


XXXVII. 

MISS  ARLINGTON'S  CHAMBER. 

IT  was  in  the  twilight  of  that  solemn  Sabbath 
evening,  that  I  passed  into  the  chamber  of  the  dying 
girl. 

What  it  was  that  supported  me,  through  the  ensu 
ing  scene,  and  gave  me  the  tranquil  fortitude  to  min 
ister  where  I  had  need  to  be  ministered  unto  —  may 
be  known  to  those,  only,  who  have  attained  the  spirit 
of  resignation,  under  the  loss  of  all  that  affection  holds 
dearest.  I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  bitterness  of  my 
own  grief.  I  have  already  confessed  my  human 
weakness,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  parade  my  sorrow. 
Nor  need  I  dwell  upon  the  source  or  sufficiency  of 
the  comfort  that  came  to  me,  by  God's  wise  appoint 
ment, —  first,  in  an  inward  strength  that  nerved  me 
for  the  exigency  of  the  hour,  and,  afterward  —  day 
by  day  —  in  a  series  of  hallowed  reflections  that 
peopled  the  void  in  my  heart. 

My  first  anxious  survey  of  her  countenance,  assured 
me  that  the  strife  had  passed,  in  the  soul  of  my  friend. 
She  lay  calm,  thoughtful,  resigned  —  as  though  her 


288  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

spirit  were  tranquillized  by  a  presence,  visible  to 
her  eyes  alone. 

The  curtain  had  been  drawn  from  a  window  near 
the  head  of  the  couch,  disclosing  to  her  a  full  view  of 
the  glowing  west,  where  the  lingering  day  burnished 
the  horizon  with  glory,  as  it  faded. 

Her  look  rested  on  that  vision  of  material  splendor, 
with  an  expression  of  serene  contentment  which  words 
cannot  portray,  while  her  face  borrowed  from  it,  as  it 
were,  a  hue  of  celestial  beauty.  Speaking  more  accu 
rately,  however,  that  beauty  was  the  development  of 
her  soul's  peace  and  victorious  faith.  The  warfare 
was  ended :  rest  and  assurance  had  come,  at  last ; 
and  her  departing  spirit,  like  the  fading  day,  was  to 
leave  the  witness  of  its  inherent  excellence,  beaming 
gloriously  at  the  end  of  its  course. 

As  I  sat  by  that  bed-side,  and  spoke  on  the  great 
themes  of  God's  providence  and  man's  destiny, — 
themes  that  transcend  the  capacity  of  the  soul,  in  its 
ordinary  posture,  but  which  are  only  found  adapted 
to  the  breadth  of  its  aspirations,  when  confronted  by 
the  prospecr  of  eternity, —  I  found  that  the  whole 
range  of  my  thoughts  had  been  anticipated,  and  that 
a  power,  more  subtle  than  man's  wisdom,  had  drawn 
the  veil  from  her  spirit.  It  was  not  for  me  to  teach 
one,  whose  understanding  God  had  illumined  by  so 
triumphant  a  confidence.  It  was  not  mine  to  admin 
ister  comfort  where  death  was  already  baffled,  and 
immortality  consciously  possessed. 

Yet,  in  this  confidence  there  was  no  presumption. 


MISS  ARLINGTON'S  CHAMBER.          289 

Indeed,  that  is  a  feeling  which  rarely  attends  the  soul 
so  far  on  its  spiritual  destination. 

Hers  appeared,  rather,  as  the  simple  conviction  of 
what  she  SAW,  by  perceptions  which  are  thus  quick 
ened  only  by  the  parting  of  flesh  and  spirit. 

Instances  of  such  preternatural  assurance  —  some 
times  accompanied  by  exclamations  of  ecstatic  delight 
—  have  fallen  under  the  observation  of  all  who  are 
familiar  with  Christian  departures.  The  immortal 
principle  attains  such  maturity  as  to  look  through  its 
material  tenement,  into  those  spiritual  vistas  that  open 
into  futurity.  Here,  we  see  the  soul  rising,  august, 
into  its  native  element  —  unscathed  by  death  or  time, 
the  twin  destroyers  that  wanton  in  the  ruin  of  all 
things  else. 

From  this  dying  girl,  I  obtained  an  evidence  of  the 
future  life,  more  convincing  than  any  philosophy  can 
furnish.  In  the  light  that  was  dawning  upon  her,  I 
seemed  to  see  further  than  before  into  the  awful  mys 
teries  of  the  Christian  faith.  Her  words,  and  her 
untroubled  look,  awed  and  elevated  each  member  of  the 
household.  It  seemed  little  less  than  miraculous,  that 
a  soul,  hitherto  so  gloomed  and  wavering,  should  sud 
denly  burst  into  such  great  splendor,  and  avow  such 
intrepid  faith.  In  that  house,  where,  heretofore,  only 
the  form  and  name  of  religion  had  been  known,  the 
hand  of  God  began  to  be  recognized,  and  his  solemn 
ministries  felt,  both  in  the  stroke  of  affliction  and  in 
the  balm  of  comfort. 

Amid   the   greater   interests   that    employed    her 


290  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

thoughts,  it  was  evident  that  she  experienced  much 
satisfaction  from  her  father's  reconciliation  to  me. 
That  I  should  be  there  in  that  chamber  of  affliction, 
became  the  relations  in  which  we  had  all  stood  toward 
each  other,  and  was  an  assurance  of  restored  harmony 
that  gave  her  great  peace. 

Her  eyes  dwelt  often,  and  with  a  peculiar  affection, 
upon  Mr.  Arlington's  distressed  face  —  as  if  she  real 
ized  the  change  that  was  working  within  him,  and 
knew  to  what  purpose  God  would  appropriate  her" 
early  death. 

That  evening,  many  of  her  friends  called,  for  it 
had  become  generally  reported  that  she  would  not 
recover.  She  had  them  all  brought  to  her  chamber, 
and  spoke  to  them,  most  cheerfully,  of  her  blessed 
peace  and  hope. 

Most  of  these  were  young  people,  of  about  her  own 
age ;  and  a  solemnly  beautiful  sight  it  was,  to  see  so 
many  youthful  figures  grouped  around  her  bed,  and 
so  many  blooming  faces  bent  tearfully  before  her, 
while,  in  a  calm,  affectionate,  and  persuasive  voice, 
she  addressed  to  them  her  parting  words.  The  expe 
rience  to  which  her  language  bore  witness,  was  too 
profound,  perhaps,  for  their  entire  appreciation ;  but 
her  features  were  lighted  up  with  such  a  peaceful 
lustre,  and  her  utterance  was  so  firm,  so  gentle,  and 
so  ginning,  that  they  all  felt  themselves  in  the  pres 
ence  of  one  just  passing  the  portal  of  heaven,  and 
already  transfigured  by  its  eternal  halo. 

As  they  bent  and  kissed  her.  one  by  one,  and  moved 


MISS  ARLINGTON'S  CHAMBER.  291 

silently  away  —  bearing  in  their  memories  the  image 
of  that  dear  face,  made  almost  celestial  by  the  triumph 
of  her  fire-tried  spirit, —  how  many  sacred  impressions 
must  have  been  quickened  in  their  pliant  hearts  — 
how  many  holy  impulses  confirmed  —  and  what  a  per 
suasion  they  must  have  retained  of  the  REALITY  of 
all  that  the  Gospel  reveals  and  enforces  !  In  future 
days,  when  allusions  shall  be  made  to  Christian  themes 
—  to  the  love  of  the  Father,  as  manifested  in  Christ — 
to  the  worth  of  virtue  and  trust  and  submission  —  and 
to  the  hopes  and  evidences  of  immortality, —  how  the- 
remembrance  of  that  scene  must  help  to  interpret  the 
meaning  of  these  things,  and  make  familiar  what  were 
otherwise  strange  and  distant ! 

But  while  the  soul  of  our  friend  grew  thus  serener 
and  stronger,  hour  by  hour,  its  perishable  temple  was 
rapidly  wasting,  and  it  became  evident  that  the  end 
was  near. 

About  ten  o'clock,  she  passed  into  a  pleasant  slum 
ber,  in  which  she  lay,  for  some  hours,  apparently  free 
from  pain,  and  tranquil  as  a  happy  child. 

Miss  Lark  kept  constant  vigil  by  the  bed-side; 
while  the  members  of  the  family  —  retiring  from  the 
room  to  vent  their  grief — looked  in,  at  brief  inter 
vals,  as  the  sad  night  waned. 

As  regards  myself,  I  went  below,  and  sought  the 
more  ample  range  of  the  garden.  The  jewelled  sky 
shone  clear  as  a  sapphire  sea,  and  the  first  airs  of 
spring  played  with  the  budding  boughs.  There  was 
a  benign  influence  in  the  night,  that  soothed  the  tur- 


292  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

moil  of  the  heart, —  something  that  impressed  the  soul 
with  a  sense  of  infinite  protection  and  of  invisible  min 
istries. 

I  had  been  walking  here  —  I  know  not  how  long — 
when  Mr.  Arlington  joined  me. 

Taking^my  arm,  he  said  —  with  an  air  of  profound 
solemnity  — 

"  Brother  Chester,  this  can  be  none  other  than 
God's  work,  and  marvellous,  in  our  eyes,  it  is.  Who 
can  help  revering  his  eternal  will,  or  confessing  the 
wisdom  of  his  appointments?  Truly,  though  clouds 
and  darkness  be  round  about  him,  justice  and  mercy 
administer  his  law." 

It  was  gratifying  to  notice  how  his  mind  was  tend 
ing  toward  an  attitude  of  trustful  resignation;  and  I 
responded,  with  a  quotation  from  the  sacred  oracle  : 

"  The  Lord  doth  not  afflict  willingly,  nor  grieve  the 
children  of  men  ;  for  though  he  cause  grief,  yet  will 
he  have  compassion,  according  to  the  multitude  of  his 
mercies.  And  our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a 
moment,  shall  work  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding,  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory." 

****** 

Just  as  the  day  began  to  dawn,  a  change  became 
visible  in  our  friend,  that  proclaimed  the  near  approach 
of  death. 

By  the  physician's  direction,  the  family  were  as 
sembled  at  the  bed-side. 

She  was  conscious  of  the  approaching  crisis,  but 
her  heart  was  not  dismayed  —  it  was  firm  and  assured, 


MISS  ARLINGTON'S  CHAMBER.  293 

to  the  last.  She  had  a  peaceful  word  for  all ;  and  on 
the  strength  of  her  own  potent  faith,  we  all  leaned 
and  found  support.  At  her  request,  a  hymn  was 
sung,  and  she  blended  her  voice  in  the  chorus.  But 
when  the  strain  was  ended,  she  heard  music  still  — 
as  she  said  —  and  listened,  with  a  look  of  mingled 
awe  and  delight.  Then  came  her  tender  leave-taking 
—  sealed  by  a  kiss  from  those  lips  that  were  soon  to 
be  dust. 

Brightening  still,  with  the  last  throb  of  her  heart, 
her  face  shone  upon  us  with  a  saintly  lustre ;  and,  at 
the  moment  of  sunrise,  she  glided  from  us  without 
pain  or  strife. 

On  the  spring-tide  of  nature  and  of  her  own  life, 
she  floated  away ;  but  the  sun  that  marked  her  de 
parture,  is  not  worthy  to  illumine  the  land  where  she 
resides,  henceforth.  For  the  Lord  God  is  her  ever 
lasting  -light,  and  the  days  of  her  mourning  are 
ended. 

?f£  ^K-  -TV  TV  -T?  -TV 

^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

If  my  readers  will  accept  another  confession,  I 
will  admit  that  I  have  never  married. 

It  is  not  that  I  am  bound-  by  any  vow  to  h.e  loyal 
to  that  first  affection,  but,  rather,  because  the  memory 
of  it  fills  my  heart,  and  I  find  no  one  who  is  capable 
of  supplanting  it. 

My  life  is  now  more  than  half  spent,  and  my 
wedded  friends  tell  me  that  I  shall  find  its  evening 
lonely,  with  no  answering  soul  to  reflect  its  emotions 
25* 


294  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

in  mine.  Lonely,  it  may  be,  as  regards  human  com 
panionship,  but  not  desolate,  or  dreary ;  for  I  KNOW 
that  the  ministry  of  spirits  is  more  than  the  dream  of 
poesy,  and  that  my  life  —  even  if  lengthened  into  old 
age  —  will  not  be  destitute  of  a  comforter. 


XXXVIII. 

WITH   ORACULAR   BLUNT. 

THE  turf  had  grown  green  over  the  breast  of  my 
beloved  friend,  before  I  stood  again  in  the  Bubbleton 
pulpit.  I  had  become  worn  down,  in  body  and  in 
spirit,  by  the  incessant  cares  and  troubles  that  attended 
me  through  the  winter  ;  and  the  exertions  I  had  found 
it  necessary  to  make,  during  the  last  few  days, 
brought  on  an  illness,  that  prostrated  me  for  some 
weeks. 

I  was  taken  sick  at  the  house  of  Brother  Oracular 
Blunt,  and  that  excellent  man  would  not  hear  of  my 
leaving  the  genial  shelter  of  his  roof.  He  was  not 
content  with  placing  all  the  comforts  of  his  home  at 
my  disposal,  and  furnishing  me  a  nurse  in  the  person 
of  his  kind  companion ;  but  actually  became  my  phy 
sician,  and  attended  me  with  a  skill  that  almost 
equalled  his  devotion.  His  collection  of  medicines 
was  by  no  means  immense,  and  there  was,  consequent 
ly,  the  less  danger  in  submitting  to  his  treatment. 
The  names  by  which  they  were  known,  moreover, 
were  singularly  intelligible, —  though  I  much  fear 


296  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

that  the  fact  may  derogate  from  the  medical  reputa 
tion  of  my  friend,  it  being  one  of  the  popular  condi 
tions  of  the  efficacy  of  drugs,  that  they  be  christened 
in  an  unknown  tongue. 

It  was  one  of  Oracular  Blunt' s  eccentricities,  to  be 
inveterately  opposed  to  the  medical  faculty. 

It  was  his  boast  that  he  had  never  lain  at  the  mercy 
of  a  doctor,  since  he  "  attained  to  years  of  discretion," 
or  came  to  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil.  Nature 
abhors  such  intermeddlers,  he  said,  as  much  as  a  great 
artist  would  the  hap-hazard  stroke  of  a  blind  man's 
pencil,  and  will  not  act  in  conjunction  with  those  who 
mar  her  perfect  work.  He  affirmed  that  there  is  a 
physical,  as  well  as  a  moral,  idolatry.  The  true 
religion  of  health  consists  in  being  loyal  to  nature ; 
its  corruption  consists  in  withdrawing  our  first  alle 
giance,  and  "  going  after  strange  gods  "-  —  which  are 
the  doctors  !  We  are  suffering,  bodily,  what  the  Jews 
suffered  who  began  to  serve  Baal  and  Moloch  —  we 
are  tantalized,  tortured,  immolated ;  and,  after  all, 
the  gods  to  whom  we  defer  and  sacrifice,  render  us 
nothing  but  evil. 

"Last  summer,"  remarked  Oracular  Blunt,  "I 
was  taken  ill,  in  New  York,  of  bilious  fever.  I  was 
stopping  at  one  of  the  hotels.  It  was  the  hottest  part 
of  the  season.  Of  course,  it  was  expected  that  I 
would  want  a  physician ;  but  I  forbade,  at  once,  the 
mention  of  such  an  idea,  and  announced  that  I  should 
take  care  of  myself.  I  prepared  my  simple  remedies, 


WITH    OEACULAK   BLUNT.  297 

and,  securing  the  cooperation  of  one  of  the  waiters, 
began  to  fight  the  fever. 

"  For  some  days,  it  baffled  my  science,  and  no 
•wonder ;  for  the  whole  city  glowed  like  a  furnace, 
under  the  mid-summer  heat,  and  the  noise  of  omni 
buses  and  processions  and  screaming  bands  of  music, 
made  my  room  nearly  as  intolerable  as  Pandemonium. 
The  landlord  began  to  express  concern  for  me,  and. 
finally,  a  doctor  —  who  chanced  to  be  boarding  at  the 
hotel  —  forced  himself  into  my  presence.  .  I  told  him 
that  I  did  not  require  his  services,  but  he  clung  to  me 
like  a  leech,  as  he  was.  If  I  was  not  able  to  pay 
him,  he  said,  he  would  attend  me  for  nothing, —  as  if 
to  be  killed  gratis,  were  any  inducement  for  one  to 
resign  his  life  !  At  last,  I  had  to  order  him  out  of 
the  room ;  and  he  went  with  a  longing  sort  of  glance, 
as  if  he  coveted  my  frame  for  the  experiments  of  his 
abominable  trade. 

"  Well,  within  two  weeks,  I  recovered  and  came 
home ;  whereas,  if  I  had  given  myself  up  to  that  doc 
tor,  and  taken  all  the  execrable  things  he  might  have 
administered  under  the  disguise  of  his  bad  Latin,  I 
should  either  have  been  the  victim  of  slow  poison,  for 
the  rest  of  my  days,  or  been  made  a  candidate  for 
dissection,  at  the  end  of  six  weeks. 

"Now,  Brother  Chester,"  added  Mr.  Blunt,  "I 
am  going  to  defend  you  from  destruction,  as  I  defended 
myself.  Having  fought,  victoriously,  the  beasts  of 
Bubbleton  —  as  Paul  did  those  of  Ephesus  —  you 
must  not  be  allowed  to  perish,  here  in  D -,  by  the 


298  BUBBLETON   PARISII. 

wise  blunders  of  our  good  Dr.  Quackeryhash.  I  say 
nothing  against  the  man,  as  a  citizen,  or  neighbor,  but 
I  should  be  like  that  worst  of  assassins  who  betrays  his 
own  guest,  if  I  permitted  him  to  approach  you,  in  his 
professional  character." 

And  so  Oracular  Blunt,  himself,  became  responsi 
ble  for  my  treatment  —  as  I  had  already  stated  — 
and  I  had  no  reason  to  lament  the  exclusion  of  Dr. 
Quackeryhash. 

During  the  severest  period  of  my  illness.  Mr.  Ar 
lington  came  over  to  see  me,  daily,  and  exhibited  the 
kindest  solicitude  for  my  situation. 

The  temper  of  his  life  was  changed :  the  sacrifice 
of  his  home's  treasure  was  not  in  vain ;  the  bereave 
ment  was  hallowed  to  the  renewing  of  his  mind.  As 
prosperity  had  perverted  him,  so  affliction  restored 
him  to  the  line  of  duty.  His  nature  —  warped  and 
hardened  in  the  sun  —  recovered  its  proportions  and 
its  freshness  under  the  cloud  that  shed  its  night-rain 
of  grief. 

One  of  the  results  of  this  important  change  in  Mr. 
Arlington,  was,  that  his  friendship  for  me  became 
stronger,  because  better  grounded,  than  ever.  It  was 
now  intrenched  within  his  esteem,  and  sanctified  by 
the  tenderest  associations.  He  took  upon  himself  the 
care  and  expense  of  procuring  supplies  for  my  pulpit, 
and  begged  that  I  would  not  think  of  resuming  my 
labors,  until  my  health  should  be  perfectly  restored. 

Many  other  members  of  the  parish  rode  out   to 


WITH  OEACULAB,  BLUNT.          299 

D, ,  during  my  convalescence,  and  I  received  some 

very  gratifying  tokens  of  affection  from  my  people. 

Harry  Hanson  was  not  among  those  who  neglected 
to  visit  me.  He  frequently  climbed  into  Mr.  Blunt's 
perch,  towards  sunset,  and,  presenting  his  ample  figure 
and  kind  face  at  my  couch,  entertained  me  with  all  the 
pleasant  news  he  had  been  able  to  gather  from  Bub- 
bleton  —  after  which  he  went  home  in  the  evening 
train. 

On  the  occasion  of  one  of  these  visits,  the  black 
smith  appeared  in  unusually  gay  spirits. 

' (  Lord  !  ' '  he  exclaimed,  seating  himself  by  my 
bed,  "  what  a  chance  you  have  lost,  Mr.  Chester  ! 
What  an  enemy  you  are  to  your  own  prosperity  !  I 
see,  plainly,  that  you  will  never  serve  your  own  in 
terests,  unless  you  fix  your  attention  upon  some  great 
example  of  worldly  prudence  !  " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  responded  I, —  "what 
chance  have  I  lost  1  and  how  do  you  prove  me  so 
deplorably  imprudent  1  " 

"  Listen,"  said  Harry  Hanson.  "  You  will  be  aw 
fully  distressed,  though,  by  what  I  am  going  to  relate." 

"  Never  mind  :  I  am  strong  now." 

"It  may  bring  on  a  relapse,  and  Mr.  Blunt  will 
have  to  call  in  Quackeryhash,  at  last." 

"  Go  on,  Brother  Hanson." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  know  that  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Downy,  pastor  of  the  Plush-street  Church,  is 
going  to  Europe." 

"Is  that  all?" 


300  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

"  Lord  !  not  by  any  means.  I  am  inflicting  the 
blow  by  degrees." 

"Well?" 

"  Mr.  Downy's  friends,  at  the  Plush-street  Church, 
have  made  him  up  a  purse  of  seven  hundred  dollars, 
as  a  present,  and  granted  him  leave  to  absent  himself 
for  six  months.'' 

"  They  are  very  generous  to  their  pastor,  are  they 
not?" 

' '  Yes,  and  he  is  very  generous  to  them ;  he  spares 
his  manliness,  and  they  can  well  afford  to  spare  their 
money." 

"  You  put  the  case  well,  Brother  Hanson.  Have 
you  told  me  all?  " 

"  No ;  there  is  one  man  in  the  Plush-street  Church, 
who  proposed  this  thing,  and  who  contributes  a  hun 
dred  dollars  towards  Mr.  Downy's  complimentary 
purse.  Who  do  you  suppose  that  man  is  ?  " 

"  Robert  Fiscal  —  perhaps." 

"  The  very  man  !  Lord  !  how  well  you  guess  !  He 
is  a  boundless  admirer  of  the  Reverend  Hyperion 
Downy." 

11  So  one  might  infer." 

"  And  he  was  once  as  great  an  admirer  of  you, 
and  would  have  proposed  doing  you  the  like  favor,  if 
you  had  not  forfeited  his  friendship." 

"  Indeed  !  are  you  certain  of  that  ?  " 

"It  is  what  he,  himself,  told  me  to-day.  Now  you 
see  what  you  have  lost,  by  venturing  to  tell  a  rich 
man  the  truth.  Now  you  see  how  the  lack  of  a  little 


WITH    ORACULAK  BLUNT.  301 

prudential  forecast,  and  of  a  little  laxity  of  principle, 
hinders  one's  advancement !  " 

' '  Yes,  I  see ;  but  do  you  think  I  could  change  my 
course,  and  recover  what  I  have  lost?  " 

"  Doubtful,  I  think :  you  seem  to  have  a  strong  pre 
dilection  for  honesty,  and  'twould  take  a  long  time  to 
stretch  you  over  the  Plush-street  model.  But  I  must 
tell  you  one  thing  more  :  Mr.  Fiscal  gives,  not  only 
his  money,  but  his  company,  to  Mr.  Downy,  to  facil 
itate  the  minister's  summer  recreations.  They  are  to 
travel  together/' 

"  Ah!  that  is  better  still." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  very  well-considered  arrangement- 
Mr.  Fiscal  has  had  a  very  arduous  time  of  it,  during 
the  winter,  helping  to  reduce  so  many  people  to  brute- 
hood  and  want ;  and  Mr.  Downy  has  had  an  arduous 
time  of  it,  too,  trying  to  convert  the  living  world  by 
preaching  against  dead  Babylon.  Poor  men  !  they 
both  need  a  chance  to  recruit  their  energies,  that  they 
may  devote  themselves  again  to  their  highly  useful 
avocations!  " 

26 


XXXIX. 

MR.    BLUNT   DISCOURSES   AGAIN. 

WHILE  the  blacksmith  was  speaking,  Brother  Orac 
ular  Blunt  came  into  the  room.  He  had  conceived 
something  of  an  attachment  for  my  worthy  parishioner, 
between  whose  sturdy  character  and  his  own  there  was 
an  obvious  correspondence,  as  well  as  in  the  bold,  pic 
turesque  style  of  their  expressions. 

Mr.  Blunt  was  not  long  in  informing  himself  of 
the  subject  of  our  conversation.  His  countenance  at 
once  assumed  an  air  of  profound  anxiety. 

"  Mr.  Fiscal  ought  to  be  advised  of  the  danger  he 
incurs,"  said  he,  seriously. 

"  The  danger?" 

"Yes,  in  sailing  in  the  same  ship  with  Mr.  Downy. 
I  would  not  incur  the  risk,  for  any  ordinary  consid 
eration." 

We  did  not  immediately  comprehend  Mr.  Blunt' s 
allusion. 

"Do  you  not  remember,"  pursued  the  eccentric 
minister,  ' '  how  a  certain  preacher,  of  old  —  disobey 
ing  the  voice  of  God  afid  thinking  to  escape  from  his 


MR.    BLUNT  DISCOURSES  AGAIN.  303 

duty  —  brought  a  tempest  upon  the  ship  in  which  he 
sailed,  and  endangered  the  lives  of  all  the  passengers  ? 
Now,  if  the  winds  of  heaven  do  not  toss  the  vessel 
that  is  cumbered  with  Hyperion  Downy,  it  can  only 
be  because  the  Lord  adopts  a  different  method,  at  the 
present  day,  to  punish  those  who  refuse  to  do  his 
will." 

This  amusing  and  characteristic  conceit  made  the 
good  blacksmith  quite  merry. 

"  I  shall  call  Robert  Fiscal' s  attention  to  that  his 
tory  of  Jonah,"  he  said,  "and  conjure  him  not  to 
involve  his  precious  fortunes  with  those  of  an  unfaith 
ful  prophet." 

Mr.  Blunt  continued : 

"It  would  prove  an  interesting  inquiry,  to  ascer 
tain  what  proportion  of  the  European  vessels  that  have 
been  wrecked,  contained  recreant  ministers.  Some  in 
formation  might  be  elicited,  on  this  point,  that  would 
be  highly  beneficial  to  the  insurance-offices,  and  to  the 
community  at  large  !  " 

"  A  capital  suggestion  !  "  exclaimed  Harry  Han 
son  ;  "it  ought  to  be  reported  in  the  newspapers." 

"If  it  should  turn  out,"  pursued  Mr.  Blunt,  "on 
a  careful  examination  of  statistics,  that  false  minis 
ters,  like  gunpowder,  actually  appear  to  endanger  a 
ship,  what  a  curious  spectacle  would  be  presented  ! 

"  Suppose  I  should  wish  to  engage  passage  for  New 
Orleans  or  Havana.  I  look  at  the  advertisements,  and 
find  that  the  ship,  Mud  Turtle,  sails  within  a  week. 
I  find  it  specified,  moreover  —  by  way  of  allaying  the 


804:  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

apprehensions  of  the  cautious  public  —  that  no  clergy 
man,  of  the  order  of  Jonah,  will  be  admitted  into  the 
ship ;  or,  if  admitted  under  a  misapprehension  of  his 
true  character,  will  be  cast  overboard  on  the  first  in 
dication  of  foul  weather  !  Or,  possibly,  it  might  be 
required  —  as  a  proper  precautionary  measure  —  that 
each  clerical  passenger  should  exhibit  a  certificate  — 
say  —  from  the  committee  of  his  society,  assuring  all 
whom  it  might  concern,  that  the  bearer  thereof  had, 
according  to  the  command  of  God  and  the  usage  of 
Scripture,  faithfully  warned  the  Nineveh  of  his  charge, 
of  whatever  calamities  its  wickedness  might  be  pre 
paring  ;  and  that  he  was,  therefore,  entitled  to  good 
usage  and  the  friendship  of  the  crew  !." 

I  was  much  amused  by  the  hypothetical  dilemma, 
which  Mr.  Blunt1  s  versatile  fancy  had  arranged  for 
catching  the  clergy;  nor  was  the  parishioner  a  whit 
the  less  delighted. 

A  day  or  two  later,  Mr.  Blunt  showed  me  a  notice 
of  the  Reverend  Hyperion  Downy,  which  had  just 
appeared  in  a  religious  newspaper  —  the  local  organ 
of  his  sect.  The  notice  appertained  to  his  contem 
plated  European  tour,  and  made  such  extreme  allu 
sions  to  his  ministerial  integrity,  and  to  his  unre 
served  devotion  to  all  the  interests  of  society,  that  I 
was  inclined,  on  the  first  reading,  to  regard  it  as  a 
.piece  of  exquisite  irony.  But  it  was  not  designed  to 
rank  with  that  species  of  composition, —  it  was  in 
tended  as  a  literal,  unqualified  statement  of  the  char 
acter  and  professional  usefulness  of  the  Plush-street 
minister. 


MR.    BLUNT   DISCOURSES  AGAIN.  305 

"  Happy  are  the  unsophisticated  few,"  exclaimed 
Oracular  Blunt,  "  who  have  not  lost  their  faith  in 
print !  It  is  a  melancholy  discovery  we  make,  when 
first  we  see  how  awfully  types  can  be  made  to  lie ! 
Now  I  suppose  that  nine-tenths  of  the  readers  of 
this  paper  will  accept  this  notice,  implicitly,  and  so 
conceive  Mr.  Downy  to  be  little  less  than  apostolic, 
with  respect  both  to  the  rigidness  of  his  principles, 
and  the  self-denial  of  his  disposition." 

"  And  still,  I  presume  this  editor  did  not  design  a 
deliberate  falsehood,"  answered  I;  "he  simply  wrote 
without  adequate  authority." 

"  Or  rather,  perhaps,  he  was  misled  by  a  false 
data,"  said  Mr.  Blunt.  "  He  knew  that  the  Plush- 
street  Church  was  in  '  a  flourishing  condition  '  —  as 
the  term  is  commonly  used  —  and  he  inferred  that  its 
pastor  must  be  a  very  good  man.  Perhaps  he  has  a 
large  list  of  subscribers  among  the  Plush-street  peo 
ple,  and  if  so,  the  fact  would  naturally  lead  him  to 
conclude  that  Mr.  Downy's  ministry  is  attended  by 
that  spiritual  growth,  which  he  has  here  ascribed  to  it. 

"  It  is  a  common  error  to  estimate  the  character  of 
a  minister  by  the  degree  of  immediate  success  that 
marks  his  labors.  A  man  may  be  most  sincere,  most 
gifted,  and  most  industrious :  and  yet  fail  to  make  the 
fruit  of  his  exertions  manifest,  in  the  day  he  lavishes 
them.  And  another  man  may  be  very  insincere  — 
weak  in  his  gifts  and  shallow  in  his  culture, — he  may 
even  be  a  bad  man ;  and  yet  succeed  in  marshalling  a 
crowd  around  him,  and  showing  many  of  the  popular 
26* 


306  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

tokens  of  prosperity.  It  is  not  safe,  therefore,  to  draw 
inferences  concerning  a  minister's  character,  from  the 
position  he  may  occupy,  or  the  transient  fame  he  may 
be  capable  of  winning.  It  is  by  no  means  to  be  sup 
posed  that  those  men  whose  names  are  most  frequently 
in  the  editorial  canon,  are  most  honest,  most  diligent, 
or  most  self-devoted.  If  good  and  true  men  knew  of 
no  judgment-seat  better  than  public  opinion,  thousands 
might  despair  of  ever  having  their  merit  recognized. 

"  There  is  Brother  Stringent,  for  instance,  of  whom 
you  have  been  telling  me  —  a  man  who  gave  himself 
to  the  ministry  with  the  most  self-denying  resolution. 
What  editor  has  ever  commemorated  his  virtues,  or 
cheered  the  barrenness  of  his  career  by  an  encourag 
ing  allusion  ?  He  has  fainted  in  the  conflict,  it  seems, 
and  lain  down  by  the  way ;  and  who  is  there  now, 
who  will  do  him  justice,  and  restore  to  him  his 
early  faith  in  man  ?  True,  he  has  failed ;  but  that 
very  failure  is  more  glorious  —  infinitely  more  ^glori 
ous  —  as  you  and  I  know  —  than  the  brilliant  success 
of  such  men  as  Hyperion  Downy.  And  yet  the  false 
man  is  applauded,  as  a  saint,  and  the  true  man  con 
demned,  as  '  a  pestilent  fellow  and  a  mover  of  sedi 
tion  '  ! 

"Brother  Chester,"  cried  Mr.  Blunt,  after  a  mo 
ment's  rumination,  "  contrive  to  keep  your  name  out 
of  the  editorials  of  the  newspapers,  if  you  can ;  for 
the  time  is  coming  when  such  fulsome  paragraphs  will 
only  serve  to  bring  suspicion  upon  a  man's  character, 
or  abilities.  All  really  discerning  people  will  say, 


MR.    BLUNT   DISCOURSES  AGAIN.  307 

'  Here  is  a  fellow  who  can't  stand  alone,  but  must  be 
propped  by  columns  of  printers'  lead.  His  work  is 
not  such  that  it  can  report  itself ;  but  every  trivial 
thing  he  does,  must  beg  at  least  three  lines  from  some 
current  journal,  lest  it  fall,  suddenly,  into  oblivion. 

"No,  Brother  Chester,  a  really  sound,  diligent 
man,  needs  no  publicity  but  the  natural  echo  of  his 
own  earnest  deeds,  or  the  inevitable  reflection  of  his 
splendid  soul.  When  a  giant  appears  among  men,  he 
does  not  send  a  troop  of  boys  before  him  to  announce 
his  approach  with  fire-crackers  and  tin-trumpets ;  but 
the  silent  force  that  is  in  him  reverberates  along  the 
earth,  wheresoever  he  moves." 


XL. 

MISS  LARK   SOARS   INTO    A   NEW   SPHERE. 

I  RESUMED  my  pastoral  work  in  Bubbleton,  with 
more  confidence  in  my  ultimate  success  than  I  had 
hitherto  been  able  to  acquire.  Various  influences  had 
combined  to  effect  a  favorable  change  in  the  parish. 
Mr.  Arlington's  public  concession  and  renewed  friend 
ship  —  occurring  in  conjunction  with  the  affliction 
that  ravished  his  home  —  carried  an  immense  influ 
ence.  My  own  illness  —  which  was  ascribed  to  the 
unjust  anxieties  and  malignant  persecutions  by  which 
I  had  been  beleaguered  —  secured  the  more  cordial 
sympathy  and  attachment  of  a  large  number  of  the 
society.  Besides,  there  was  a  just  Christian  SENTI 
MENT —  quickened,  perhaps,  under  Brother  Strin- 
gent's  ministry. —  growing  up  in  the  hearts  of  the. 
people,  and  gradually  modifying  their  views. 

As  I  stood  up  before  the  congregation,  the  first 
Sunday  succeeding  this  interim,  and  caught  tbe  kind 
ly  glances  that  shone  upon  me  —  warmer  than  the 
sunlight  —  from  hundreds  of  upturned  faces  ;  a  calm, 
assuring  joy  passed  into  my  heart,  and  a  home  atmo- 


MISS  LARK  SOARS  INTO   A  NEW   SPHERE.      309 

sphere  enfolded  me  with  a  sense  of  peace  and  love, 
unfelt  before. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  I  heard  it  rumored,  that 
my  romantic  friend,  Miss  Lark,  had  secured  a  con 
quest,  and  was  about  to  become  a  bride. 

The  man  who  had  surrendered  to  the  charms  of 
Miss  Lark  was  a  young  portrait-painter,  who  had 
opened  his  rooms  in  Bubbleton,  about  six  months  be 
fore.  As  soon  as  I  heard  that  he  had  become  respons 
ible  for  the  happiness  of  my  fair  friend,  I  paid  him  a 
visit,  and  was  pleased  to  find  that  he  appeared  pos 
sessed  of  good  principles,  and  with  talents  that  prom 
ised,  at  least,  a  moderate  success  in  his  vocation.  I 
saw  that  he  had  great  enthusiasm  for  his  art,  and 
great  love  for  the  harmonies  and  sentimentalities  of 
the  poets ;  and  I  augured  for  the  affianced  lovers,  a 
very  contented  and  felicitous  union. 

At  the  meeting  of  the  sewing-circle,  that  week, 
Miss  Lark  did  not  make  her  appearance  until  quite  a 
late  hour  —  thus  affording  her  friends  an  opportunity 
for  unlimited  gossip  on  the  subject  of  her  engage 
ment. 

Judging  from  a  few  observations  which  I  over 
heard,  after  my  arrival,  I  fear  that  my  friend's  choice 
was  criticized,  and  her  judgment  impugned,  with  con 
siderable  severity  —  particularly  by  the  more  mature 
maiden  ladies,  who  volunteered  their  expressions  on 
the  subject. 

"  A  portrait-painter  !  "  exclaimed  one,  "  that  must 
be  a  very  unsubstantial  calling." 


310  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

"  So  he  's  already  found  it,  if  what  I  hear  is  true," 
responded  another.  ( '  They  say  he  was  so  much  in 
debt,  in  Hartford,  that  he  had  to  leave  town  under 
cover  of  night,  to  escape  an  attachment ! ' ' 

There  was  a  general  expression  of  amazement, 
among  the  spinsters,  at  this  statement. 

'•Who  would  have  thought  it?"  demanded  Miss 
Primrose. 

"  Before  I  would  marry  a  man  that  could  n't  pay 
his  debts  !  "  said  Miss  Starcher,  tossing  her  grand  lit 
tle  head,  with  imperial  disdain. 

Young  Hetty  Morris  looked  up  from  her  work,  with 
her  eyes  full  of  mischief,  and  said  : 

"We  all  know  how  fastidious  Miss  Starcher  is; 
she 's  been  marriageable  this  dozen  years,  but  can't 
find  a  man  perfect  enough  to  throw  herself  away 
upon.  Miss  Starcher,  it's  almost  a  forlorn  hope, 
is  n't  it?" 

Miss  Starcher  grew  very  red,  but  made  no  intel 
ligible  answer;  while  an  embarrassing  titter  was 
heard  from  a  group  of  girls,  in  another  quarter  of  the 
room. 

"Well,  I  think  she  might  have  done  better,  any 
how,"  said  Miss  Staytorights,  alluding  to  Miss  Lark's 
choice;  "I've  no  great  opinion  of  these  artesian 
gentlemen." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  they  're  to  live  upon," 
said  Miss  Pod,  "  for  they  won't  find  portrait-painting 
very  profitable,  here  in  Bubbleton,  in  my  opinion." 

"  True,"  responded  Hetty  Morris,  in  an  undertone, 


MISS  LARK   SOARS   INTO   A   NEW  SPHERE.      311 

"there's  a  great  lack  of  good  subjects,  isn't  there, 
Miss  Pod?" 

The  lady  addressed,  cringed  under  Hetty's  roguish 
banter,  but  Miss  Pennyweight  now  condescended  to 
enter  the  lists. 

"They  will  live  on  poetry  —  sentiment  —  moon 
shine  !  "  exclaimed  that  severe  dignitary.  "  They 
will  need  nothing  better  than  the  sweets  of  roses  and 
the  songs  of  nightingales,  so  long  as  the  summer  lasts ; 
but  when  cold  weather  comes,  you  '11  find  they  '11 
shrivel  into  nothing  !  " 

It  was  the  most  poetical  thought  Miss  Pennyweight 
had  ever  been  known  to  express,  but  the  doleful 
prophecy  concerning  Miss  Lark  and  her  lover,  did  not 
seem  to  make  any  very  profound  impression. 

"My  own  impression  is,"  said  Hetty  Morris,  "  that 
they  will  live  on  love,  and  I  think  they  '11  find  it  very 
good  fare,  don't  you,  Miss  Pod?  " 

But  Miss  Pod  did  not  profess  to  know  anything 
about  love,  and  did  n't  wish  to,  she  was  sure  of  that. 

"  Don't  know  anything  about  it,  ha?  "  said  Hetty, 
with  amusing  compassion;  "well,  /  do  —  that  is,  I 
dream  about  it,  you  know." 

"Fiddlestick!"  exclaimed  Miss  Pennyweight, 
"girls  of  your  age  are  full  of  such  nonsense.  Love, 
indeed  !  what  do  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  0  not  much,  as  yet,  to  be  sure,"  answered  Hetty, 
"but  then  I  expect  to.  The  song  says,  '  Every  lassie 
has  a  laddie,'  and  so  I  expect  to  find  mine,  by  and  by. 
I  only  hope  he  may  be  as  handsome  and  good  as  Miss 


312  BUBBLBTON   PARISH. 

Lark's ;  for  I  don't  believe  a  word  about  his  having 
left  Hartford,  in  the  manner  Miss  Gimp  speaks  of." 

Miss  Gimp  bridled,  and  demanded  whether  Hetty 
meant  to  dispute  her  word. 

"0  no,"  answered  Hetty,  "I  only  dispute  the  re 
port,  and  I  hope  you  're  not  accountable  for  that. 
Here  the  other  day,"  continued  Hetty,  "it was  re 
ported  that  a  lady  —  an  acquaintance  of  mine  —  had 
got  jilted ;  but  I  did  n't  think  myself  warranted  in 
believing  it." 

Miss  Gimp  bent  over  her  work,  with  face  and  neck 
dyed  scarlet.  Her  confusion  was  so  obvious,  that  no 
body  inquired  the  name  of  the  unfortunate  lady. 

"  Hetty  Morris,"  said  the  president,  in  her  most 
shrewish  voice,  "you  had  better  attend  a  little  more 
strictly  to  your  work,  and  bridle  that  impudent  tongue 
of  yours." 

"Well,  I  will  try,"  returned  Hetty,  "but  some 
how  my  tongue  will  say  what  it  pleases,  here ;  I 
believe  it  takes  pattern  after  the  others  !  " 

Having  said  this,  Hetty  remained  silent  until  Miss 
Lark  arrived ;-  and  I  improved  the  opportunity  by 
giving  my  own  opinion  of  the  young  artist,  and  by 
rebuking,  in  a  mild  way,  the  severity  with  which  his 
name  had  been  treated. 

A  few  weeks  later,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  uniting 
Miss  Lark  and  Mr.  Vernon  by  the  matrimonial  tie. 

They  took  a  short  bridal  trip  —  I  think,  to  Sara 
toga  —  and  then  commenced  housekeeping  in  the  old 
home,  with  the  bride's  mother. 


MISS  LARK   SOARS   INTO   A   NEW   SPHERE.      313 

One  day,  when  I  called — it  was  about  three  months 
after  the  marriage  —  the  young  wife  met  me  with  an 
expression  of  triumphant  happiness.  Some  blessed 
revelation  sparkled  in  her  radiant  look. 

"I've  such  a  delightful  bit  of  news  to  tell  you, 
Mr.  Chester,  I  've  been  wishing  to  see  you  all  day." 

She  sat  down  beside  me,  with  a  new  number  of  the 
Lady  s  Book  in  her  lap. 

"  Now,  please  don't  think  me  foolish,  or  vain,  Mr. 
Chester,  but  I  'm  really  very  proud  and  glad  at 
what 's  happened." 

With  sincere  sympathy  in  her  gladness,  I  begged 
that  she  would  tell  me  all  about  it. 

"Well,  then,"  began  my  fair  friend,  '-after  I  had 
come  to  know  George,  and  he  had  told  me  that  he 
loved  me,  and  Ave  had  promised  to  be  married,  and  all 
that, —  I  began  to  study  means  of  being  useful  to 
him,  and  of  helping  him  to  get  ahead  a  little ;  for  you 
know  George  is  n't  rich,  and  could  offer  me  only  his 
talents  and  his  love  —  but  they  're  better  than  silver 
and  gold,  are  they  not,  Mr.  Chester  ? 

"Well,  I  considered  the  subject  night  and  day, 
and,  at  last,  I  thought  of  a  very  bold  plan.  I  sent 
two  manuscripts  to  the  Lady's  Book  for  publication. 
I  wrote  them  by  nights,  very  carefully  and  secretly, 
and  sent  them  on  without  consulting  anybody.  They 
were  love-stories,  and  the  conversations  were  such  as 
George  and  I  had  held  together.  Don't  laugh  at  me, 
Mr.  Chester,  but  hear  me  out. 

"  When  the  next  number  of  the  magazine  appeared, 
27 


314  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

I  found  that  my  stories  were  accepted.  In  another 
month  one  of  them  was  printed,  and  the  editor  Avrote 
me,  that,  with  a  little  more  practice,  I  might  hope  to 
be  engaged  soon,  as  a  regular  paid  contributor.  How 
my  heart  bounded  at  that  thought !  I  wrote  another 
story,  longer  than  the  others,  and  took  a  world  of 
pains  with  it.  That  was  about  the  time  we  were 
married ;  but  I  did  n't  mention  what  I  was  about  — 
not  even  to  George.  Well,  time  fled  very  fast,  but  I 
had  began  to  be  a  little  anxious  about  my  story,  when 
I  found  it,  yesterday*  printed  in  this  magazine.  It  is 
anonymous,  as  were  the  others,  and  nobody  in  Bub- 
bleton  knew  the  author  but  me.  This  morning  came 
another  letter  from  the  editor,  enclosing  twenty  dol 
lars,  and  saying  that  he  would  pay  me  for  a  story 
every  month.  Is  n:t  it  a  glorious  prospect,  Mr.  Ches 
ter  ?  To  think  that  I  shall  be  able  to  earn  such  sums 
of  money  to  help  dear  George  along,  and  all  by  writ 
ing, —  to  say  nothing  of  having  my  poor,  dear 
sketches  read  by  so  many  thousands  of  people  !  " 

My  good  little  friend  paused  • —  quite  out  of  breath 
—  while  I  congratulated  her  with  all  my  heart. 

"You  have  told  George  now,  I  suppose,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  I  waited  till  we  were  all  seated  at  dinner  — 
George  and  mother  and  I  —  and  then  I  told  them  all 
about  it.  0,  you  should  have  seen  how  astonished 
and  delighted  they  were  —  George,  especially  !  He 
came  very  near  overthrowing  the  table,  he  was  so  de 
lightfully  frantic  in  his  joy.  And  then  he  read  the 
stories,  and  praised  them,  in  his  great,  hearty, 


MISS  LARK   SOARS  INTO   A   NEW  SPHERE.      315 
\ 

extravagant  way,  until  my  eyes  were  brimfull  of 
tears,  and  I  was  so  thankful  that  I  could  have  prayed 
aloud. 

"  But  the  wilful  man  won't  take  a  dollar  of  the 
money,"  added  the  happy  wife;  "he  says  I  shall 
have  all  I  earn,  to  appropriate  as  I  please,  and  that 
he  will  work  his  fingers  off  if  I  do  not  have  more  still. 
What  a  dear,  glorious  fellow  he  is  !  and  how  very, 
very  happy  we  all  are.  Mr.  Chester  !  " 

The  deep  joy  of  her  simple  heart,  gushed  over  her 
face  in  sparkling  tears. 

"0,  how  good  God  must  be,"  said  she,  "to  make  us 
capable  of  so  much  happiness  !  " 

After  a  moment's  silence,  she  added,  "You  must 
stay  and  drink  tea  with  us,  won't  you?  George  will 
be  in  early,  for  the  dear  fellow  forgot  to  eat  his  din 
ner  ;  and  then  we  shall  all  have  such  a  delightful 
visit." 

So  I  remained,  and  a  very  joyous  time  it  was. 

Mrs.  Lark  Vernon  has  since  become  a  noted  con 
tributor  to  the  popular  magazines.  Her  portrait  has 
graced  one  of  the  monthlies,  and  her  name  has  a  place 
among  "the  female  poets  of  America."  She  con 
tinues  my  faithful  friend.  In  spite  of  some  tears  that 
do  not  come  of  gladness,  she  enjoys  a  reasonable 
amount  of  happiness ;  and,  in  spite  of  sentiment,  ful 
fils  her  duties  acceptably,  to  all  around  her. 


XLI. 

MR.    PEPPERY   PROVES   INCORRIGIBLE. 

PERHAPS  my  readers  would  like  to  receive  some 
further  information,  concerning  Mr.  Peppery.  I 
will,  therefore,  appropriate  a  little  space  in  these 
closing  sheets,  to  the  affairs  of  the  energetic  little 
reformer. 

Throughout  the  summer,  at  intervals,  Mr.  Peppery 
continued  to  harangue  knots  of  people,  in  Bubbleton 
and  elsewhere,  on  his  favorite  topic,  American 
slavery.  Sometimes,  he  was  heard  with  attention, 
and,  at  others,  ingloriously  hooted  —  according  to  the 
views  and  temper  of  those  whom  he  happened  to 
address. 

On  one  occasion,  while  delivering  a  terrible  phil 
ippic  against  the  powers  that  be,  on  Boston  Common, 
and  while  rather  an  ominous  sensation  was  agitating 
the  crowd  that  heard  him  —  Mr.  Peppery  found  him 
self  suddenly  seized  by  two  members  of  the  police, 
and  led  off  to  prison,  like  an  apostle,  charged  with 
"turning  the  world  upside  down."  He  was  soon 
liberated  by  the  interposition  of  some  of  his  partisans; 


MR.  PEPPERY  PROVES  INCORRIGIBLE.     317 

but  he  never  forgave  the  Puritan  city  that  base  act  of 
tyranny. 

' '  Talk  of  liberty  in  America,  either  of  speech  or 
person  !  "  cried  Mr.  Peppery,  after  he  had  been  de 
livered  from  the  clutches  of  the  officials, — " there's 
no  such  thing,  North  or  South.  It 's  a  humbug  and 
an  insult  to  talk  of  our  being  a  free  people  !  We  're 
all  under  the  thumbs  and  heels  of  Southern  planters. 
They  're  an  amazing  able  set  of  rascals  —  those  South 
erners  ;  they  not  only  compel  three  millions  of  ne 
groes  to  do  their  work  and  serve  their  vices,  but  they 
compel,  also,  the  boasted  freemen  of  the  North  to  bow, 
like  lackeys,  to  their  ungodly  wills,  and  forswear  all 
the  principles  and  privileges  of  manly  independence. 
They  buy  our  politicians'  souls  as  they  do  the  bodies 
of  their  slaves, —  they  frighten  our  merchants  by 
threatening  to  withdraw  their  trade ;  and  they  so  ca 
jole  and  brow-beat  all  classes  of  the  people,  that  a 
man  can  no  more  speak  against  their  abominable  insti 
tution,  with  safety  to  himself,  here  in  Boston,  than  in 
New  Orleans. 

"But,  as  the  Lord  lives,  and  I  am  not  changed 
into  a  sheep,"  concluded  Mr.  Peppery,  "no  Southern 
aristocrat  shall  put  a  ring  in  my  nose,  and  no  North 
ern  sycophant  shall  stop  my  mouth.  I  will  lift  up 
my  voice  like  a  trumpet, —  I  will  cry  aloud  and  spare 
not ;  and  better  voices  than  mine  shall  swell  the  alarm, 
till  the  Capitol  trembles,  and  the  nation  awakes  to  a 
sense  of  its  peril !  " 

Just  after  the  meeting  of  Congress,  Mr.  Peppery 
27* 


318  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

was  moved  to  visit  Washington.  No  consideration 
could  dissuade  him  from  this  purpose.  He  particu 
larly  desired  an  interview  with  General  Jackson, 
though  what  he  expected  to  accomplish  by  it,  was 
known  only  to  himself.  Somebody  furnished  him 
with  the  necessary  funds,  when  —  leaving  his  family 
to  the  care  of  Providence  —  the  earnest  little  reformer 
set  out  on  his  mission. 

We  all  anticipated  trouble  for  Mr.  Peppery,  and 
hence  were  not  surprised,  when  tidings  reached  us 
that  he  was  imprisoned  in  Baltimore.  Efforts  were 
made  to  secure  his  liberation ;  and,  after  three  months' 
confinement,  he  was  set  at  liberty,  and  made  the 
auditor  of  some  well-meant  advice  regarding  his  future 
behavior. 

He  went  on  to  the  capital  city,  where  it  became  his 
habit  to  waylay  senators,  and  teach  them  their  duty. 
One  day,  he  publicly  denounced  one  of  those  gentle 
men  from  the  gallery  —  to  the  great  amazement  of 
the  dignified  legislators  —  and  only  escaped  punish 
ment  through  a  prevalent  belief  in  his  insanity.  But 
he  had  not  sufficient  diplomatic  art  to  gain  his  coveted 
interview  with  the  President.  Smoother  and  subtler 
men  were  always  ahead  of  him,  and  the  free-spoken 
reformer  was  foiled  at  every  turn. 

At  length,  in  the  ensuing  spring  —  after  a  succes 
sion  of  unhappy  adventures  —  Mr.  Peppery  reap 
peared  in  Bubbleton.  He  was  ragged,  emaciated, 
and  sick ;  but  the  spirit  of  the  man  defied  all  his 
hardships  and  indignities. 


MR.  PEPPERY  PROVES  INCORRIGIBLE.     319 

He  secured  the  Town  Hall  for  a  certain  evening, 
and  gave  notice  that  he  proposed  describing  his  late 
tour,  for  the  entertainment  of  his  fellow-citizens. 

This  announcement  brought  out  an  immense  audi 
ence,  who  gave  the  speaker  the  most  respectful  atten 
tion,  for  two  hours;  and  the  indefatigable  radical 
made  the  most  of  the  occasion,  for  the  benefit  of  his 
cause.  He  described  slavery,  as  it  had  been  displayed 
under  his  own  eyes, —  becoming  especially  indignant 
at  the  remembrance  of  the  slave-pens  that  pollute  the 
national  capital.  He  dwelt  long,  and  with  many  a 
searing  sarcasm,  upon  the  subserviency  and  double- 
dealing  he  had  detected  in  the  politicians.  He  alluded 
to  his  private  adventures  only  so  far  as  they  tended 
to  expose  the  arrogance  and  tyranny  of  the  slave 
power,  and  so  confirm  and  enforce  his  general  state 
ments. 

His  address  was  quite  effective,  and  was  the  means 
of  opening  the  eyes  of  many  indifferent  persons,  to  a 
right  view  of  the  enormities  of  slavery,  and  the  ac 
countability  of  the  whole  country  for  its  wrongs. 

Harry  Hanson  was  loud  and  earnest  in  its  com 
mendation. 

"  Lord  !  "  exclaimed  the  good  blacksmith,  "  I  don't 
begrudge  what  I  've  given  to  Peppery 's  family  " — 
(he  had,  in  fact,  supported  them,  through  the  winter) 
— "  since  the  snarling,  invincible  little  man  serves  the 
public  so  ably.  A  true  hero,  is  our  brave  Peppery 
—  prophet,  apostle  and  martyr,  all  blended  in  his 
compact  personality.  Fortune,  like  a  mad  bull,  may 


320  BUBBLETON    PARISH. 

toss  him  on  its  horns,  ever  so  high,  or  ever  so  fre 
quently  ;  —  down  he  comes  sound  and  valiant  as  be 
fore,  and  ready  to  battle  again  in  the  unequal  strife  ! 

"  If  Garrison  ever  gets  this  troublesome  Union  split 
asunder,"  added  Harry,  "Peppery  shall  preach  up  a 
crusade  against"  the  infidels  of  the  South,  after  the 
manner  of  Peter  the  Hermit,  and  we  will  all  march 
with  him  and  subjugate  the  land  !  " 

After  the  gathering  at  the  Town  Hall,  Mr.  Pep 
pery  became  quite  a  lion  in  Bubblcton.  He  created 
a  very  considerable  anti-slavery  sensation  in  our 
patriotic  community. 

But  popularity  was  a  burden  which  the  little  re 
former  could  ill  support.  He  soon  contrived  to  divest 
himself  of  so  unnatural  an  appendage.  He  broached 
doctrines  so  extremely  revolutionary,  as  to  renew  all 
the  opposition  in  which  he  had  gloried. 

Thus  Mr.  Peppery's  warfare  was  continued  in  pe 
rennial  vigor.  He  never  put  off  his  armor  until  he 
laid  aside  his  mortality. 


XLII. 

BROTHER   STRINGENT   SEES   BETTER   DATS. 

As  I  became  more  and  more  assured  of  the  friendly 
esteem  and  returning  harmony  of  my  parish,  my 
thoughts  recurred,  with  more  frequency,  to  Brother 
Stringent, —  to  the  trials  that  overpowered  him  —  to 
his  withdrawal  from  the  ministry,  and  to  the  unhappy 
perversion  of  his  noble  nature.  I  considered  the 
probability  of  his  being  restored  to  his  office,  and  to 
his  early  trust.  The  more  I  reflected  on  the  subject, 
the  more  desirous  and  confident  I  became  of  having 
the  work  effected. 

I  did  not  hesitate  long  before  I  consulted  Brother 
Oracular  Blunt. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  the  same  thing,  myself," 

said  the  good  minister  of  D ,  "  and  am  ready  to 

exert  my  influence  in  Brother  Stringent' s  behalf.  I 
saw  a  good  deal  of  the  man,  while  he  was  fighting 
the  good  fight  in  Bubbleton,  and  I  know  that  he  had, 
at  that  time,  many  of  the  best  qualities  I  ever  found 
in  a  clergyman.  It  would  be  a  great  loss,  were  such 
a  man  to  perish,  utterly,  before  the  stupid  anger  of 
the  idolaters. 


322  BUBBLETON  PARISH. 

"The  first  thing  to  be  done,"  continued  Mr. 
Blunt,  with  his  usual  directness,  "is  to  find  a  society 
adapted  to  Brother  Stringent's  peculiar  wants  :  for 
I  foresee  that  we  must  humor  the  man's  fancj,  some 
what  —  in  the  present  state  of  his  feelings  —  or  we 
shall  never  get  him  started  again  on  the  course,  with 
any  proper  degree  of  resolution.  There  is  a  parish 
in  Freemansport,  which  is  destitute  of  a  pastor ;  and 
the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  am  convinced  that 
there  is  the  place -for  Brother  Stringent.  I  have 
seen  some  specimens  of  the  parish,  and  they  do  not 
appear  to  be  contaminated  by  the  surrounding  hea 
thenism,  as  most  of  our  societies  do.  However,  to 
make  all  sure,  and  also  to  expedite  this  affair,  suppose 
we  ride  over  there,  at  our  first  convenience,  and  make 
a  personal  inspection  of  their  soundness." 

And,  accordingly,  we  went. 

We  stated  to  the  committee  the  chief  points  in 
Brother  Stringent's  history  and  character,  with  frank 
ness  and  impartiality,  and  declared  our  estimate  of  his 
worth  and  usefulness,  provided  he  could  labor  with 
the  confidence  and  affection  of  a  people.  They  were 
interested  in  our  report,  and  expressed  an  earnest 
desire  to  see  and  hear  him. 

We  next  proceeded  to  Brother  Stringent's  home, 
and  conferred  with  him.  He  was  much  moved  by  the 
interest  we  had  shown  in  his  affairs,  but  did  not  come 
readily  into  our  views.  He  shrunk  from  making 
another  trial  of  his  ministerial  capacity.  The  recol 
lection  of  his  failures  was  too  vivid  and  forbidding. 


BROTHER  STRINGENT  SEES  BETTER  DAYS.     323 

Moreover,  he  had  become  interested  in  hig  newspaper 
enterprise,  which  was  now  beginning  to  afford  him  a 
better  support  than  he  had  ever  realized  from  preach 
ing. 

But  there  was  nothing  mercenary  in  Brother 
Stringent' s  character.  He  only  needed  to  be  con 
vinced  of  the  probability  of  his  success  in  the  minis 
terial  field,  to  induce  him  to  sacrifice  the  best 
pecuniary  prospects.  The  account  we  gave  of  the 
Freemansport  people  was  evidently  pleasing ;  and 
when  Mr.  Blunt  informed  him  what  a  revolution  was 
being  wrought  in  Bubbleton,  he  seemed  to  recover  — 
by  a  violent  spasm  of  astonishment  —  much  of  his  lost ' 
confidence  in  the  latent  goodness  of  mankind. 

To  be  brief,  we  persuaded  him  to  visit  Freemans- 
port. 

The  dormant  spirit  of  the  man  revived, —  some  of 
the  old,  spring-day  sunshine  beamed  through  his  na 
ture, —  and  the  people  were  thrilled  by  his  preaching, 
and  delighted  by  his  manners.  They  gave  him  a 
cordial  invitation  to  settle  with  them,  and  he  —  with 
all  the  cynical  mistrust  that  lingered  with  him  still  — 
could  not  resist  the  flattering  prospect.  He  disposed 
of  his  paper,  after  a  few  months,  and  removed  to 
Freemansport. 

Oracular  Blunt  insisted  that  he  should  be  installed, 
for  that  act,  he  said,  would  impress  both  parties  with 
a  better  sense  of  the  permanency  of  their  relation ; 
and  besides,  he  added,  it  might  afford  him  an  oppor 
tunity  to  dogmatize  a  little  to  pastor  and  parish,  about 


324  BUBBLETON   PAEISH. 

their  relative  duties.  There  was,  accordingly,  an 
installation  service,  and  Mr.  Blunt' s  address  to  the 
society,  on  that  occasion,  was  a  masterpiece  of  perti 
nent  wisdom  and  cogent  appeal. 

I  am  sensible  how  much  that  address  must  suffer, 
in  the  attempt  to  transfer  it  to  these  pages  —  after  so 
great  a  lapse  of  time — ;  and  yet  I  cannot  withstand 
the  impulse  to  fix,  in  these  closing  records,  some  few 
of  the  best-remembered  sentences : 

"Don't  expect  too  much  of  your  minister,"  advised 
Mr.  Blunt.  "  Under  the  excitement  of  his  first  dis 
courses,  and  while  the  audience  is  yet  strange,  he 
may  preach  with  more  spirit  than  he  will  subsequently 
average.  There  will  be  more  novelty  in  his  manner 
and  thought,  during  the  first  few  months,  than  you 
will  find,  later.  For  a  minister  must  carry  his  own  in 
dividuality  into  the  pulpit,  even  after  it  has  become  fa 
miliar  ;  he  cannot  exchange  himself  for  a  prodigy,  even 
though  fastidious  hearers  §ometimes  find  him  tame. 

"You  must  not  expect  to  be  electrified  every 
Sunday,  by  successive  discoveries  of  wonderful  truths. 
Such  treasures  lie  deep,  and  if  a  man  brings  one  of 
them  to  light  in  a  lifetime,  the  deed  is  talked  of,  the 
world  over,  and  he  gets  a  marble  statue  for  his  pains. 
Don't  go  to  church,  then,  with  any  such  fallacious 
hope.  Don't  go,  either,  to  have  your  fancy  amused 
by  intellectual  gymnastics ;  let  your  preacher  stand 
on  his  feet,  and  talk  to  you  like  a  rational  Christian, 
in  the  fear  of  God  !  Go  to  church  —  not  so  much  to 
hear  new  truth  —  but  to  have  old  truth  vitalized, 


BROTHER  STRINGENT   SEES   BETTER   DAYS.     325 

and  applied  to  your  hearts,  according  to  your  condi 
tion. 

"I  say,  again,  don't  expect  too  much  of  your 
minister  :  Remember,  he  is  human  —  made  out  of 
the  same  elements  as  yourselves.  Like  you,  he  is 
liable  to  his  caprices  —  to  the  effects  of  circumstances 
—  to  error  and  to  evil.  He  will  want  three  meals  a 
day,  and  may  get  the  influenza,  as  well  as  the  weakest 
of  you  ;  and,  in  both  cases,  you  must  be  prepared  for 
the  consequences. 

"  Again,  brethren,  don't  expect  too  little  of  your 
minister  :  don't  hope  to  find  him  an  automaton,  whom 
every  conceited  meddler  among  you  can  manage  at 
his  will.  You  will  find  that  Brother  Stringent  did 
not  put  off  his  manhood,  when  he  assumed  the  min 
istry.  He  has  a  will  —  methods  —  motives  —  of  his 
own  ;  and  will  act  by  them,  with  becoming  deference 
to  your  pleasure,  as  God  shall  give  him  wisdom  and 
understanding.  If  he  were  less  independent  than 
I  know  him  to  be,  I  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
installing  him  as  your  teacher ;  for  never  would  I 
place  the  hand  of  consecration  upon  that  wooden- 
headed  poltroon,  who  gives  a  treacherous  lip-service 
to  his  God,  and  sells  his  soul  to  the  congregation  for 
a  pitiful  salary. 

"  Again,"  continued  Mr.  Blunt,  "  I  trust  you  will 
prove  to  your  minister,  that  you  reciprocate  the 
affectionate  interest  which  he  is  expected  to  feel 
towards  you.  Don't  suffer  him  to  suspect  that  you 
are  indifferent  to  his  happiness, —  that  your  concern 
28 


326  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

in  him  is  merely  mercenary, —  that  he  dwells  among 
you  only  by  the  toleration  of  charity  or  custom. 
Such  a  thought  would  go  far  toward  quenching  his 
zeal,  burned  it  never  so  bright  and  pure.  Show  him 
all  the  kindness  you  can ;  it  will  be  as  the  sunshine 
that  vitalizes  and  beautifies  the  earth  ;  and  your  gen 
erous  deeds  will  return  to  you  in  blessing,  in  the 
ampler  fruitage  you  will  have  enabled  his  soul  to 
bear. 

"  Unite  yourselves  to  him,  brethren,  both  in  broth 
erly  sympathy  with  his  cares,  and  in  manly  coopera 
tion  with  his  efforts.  Don't  expect  him  to  do  his  own 
work  and  yours  besides.  Let  each  bear  the  burden 
proper  to  him.  It  is  his  to  suggest,  recommend,  and 
illustrate  divine  virtues,  for  your  pursuit  and  attain 
ment.  This  is  all  he  can  do.  He  cannot  break  for 
you  the  thrall  of  worldliness,  or  enter  your  hearts  and 
vanquish  the  habits  and  predispositions  of  years. 
This  is  your  work,  and  you  alone  must  perform  it. 
....  God  grant  unto  him  all  needed  wisdom  to 
show  the  heavenly  way,  and  unto  you  the  humble  and 
patient  spirit  that  wanders  not  astray." 

I  take  pleasure  in  adding,  that  Brother  Stringent's 
settlement  in  Freemansport  proved,  every  way,  for 
tunate  and  durable.  The  parish  profited  by  Mr. 
Blunt' s  plain  hints,  and  never  regretted  the  choice 
they  made  of  a  minister.  Brother  Stringent  has 
risen  very  high  in  the  esteem  of  his  brethren,  and 
can  now  "  make  a  practical  application  of  the  Gos 
pel,"  without  censure  —  even  in  Bubbleton. 


BROTHER  STRINGENT  SEES  BETTER  DAYS.     327 

Mr.  Arlington  listens  to  him  with  none  of  his  former 
apprehensions,  and  could  even  endure  a  repetition  of 
that  famous  Fourth-of-July  Sermon,  I  presume,  with 
out  trembling  for  the  stability  of  the  government,  or 
chafing  for  the  injured  credit  of  the  nation. 


XLIII. 

THE   PLUSH-STREET   MINISTER  RECEIVES   A   CALL. 

HYPERION  DOWNY  did  not  make  his  contemplated 
European  tour.  A  circumstance  occurred,  on  the 
eve  of  his  departure,  which  effectually  thwarted  his 
plans,  and  gave,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  a  higher  tone  to 
his  life. 

Having  consummated  his  arrangements  for  spend 
ing  the  summer  abroad,  and  feeling  that  some  ac 
knowledgment  was  due  his  numerous  friends  in  Bub- 
bleton,  for  their  many  acts  of  kindness  and  liberality, 
—  Mr.  Downy,  upon  a  certain  evening,  opened  his 
heart  and  his  house  to  his  congregation,  and  gave  a 
splendid  entertainment.  Of  course,  the  wealth  and 
fashion  and  beauty  of  the  city  "  graced  "  his  rooms  — 
to  speak  in  the  tone  of  journalism  —  and  the  "rever 
end  gentleman"  and  "his  accomplished  lady"  de 
meaned  themselves  to  the  admiration  of  all  spectators. 

In  such  a  select  and  genteel  company,  gathere.d 
under  the  roof  of  the  popular  minister,  it  is  to  be  as 
sumed  that  everybody  was  enchanted.  No  discordant 
feelings  could  penetrate  so  brilliant  a  circle,  to  occa- 


PLUSH-STREET  MINISTER  RECEIVES  A  CALL.  329 

i 

sion  a  moment's  chagrin  or  discontent.  Nobody  felt 
irritated  by  coming  in  contact  with  an  unfriendly  per 
son,  or  amazed  by  somebody's  impertinence,  or  scan 
dalized  by  somebody's  vulgarity.  The  rich  merchant 
felt  no  insidious  care  gnawing  beneath  his  satin  vest, 
—  the  dame  with  a  marriageable  daughter,  had  no 
restless  anxiety  about  the  impression  she  desired  to 
have  her  make, —  the  waning  coquette,  who  had  spent 
the  first  blushes  of  her  loveliness  in  vain,  saw  herself 
supplanted  without  bitterness  or  regret, —  the  young 
maidens  felt  no  rankling  pride,  and  the  young  men  no 
stinging  jealousies, —  no  gossips  were  there  to  indulge 
their  vicious  observations,  and  envy  did  not  sneer  at 
those  who  presided  at  the  piano : 

For  everybody  knows  that  the  Plush-street  gather 
ings  are  most  decorous,  most  amiable,  most  care-free, 
and  most  happy ! 

In  the  very  height  and  affluence  of  the  evening's 
felicities,  there  arises  a  sudden  disturbance  at  the 
street-door.  A  loud,  strange  voice  is  audible,  debat 
ing  with  the  usher.  A  servant  enters  and  whispers 
in  the  minister's  ear;  and  Mr.  Downy  —  gliding 
through  his  crowded  rooms,  with  graceful  movement 
and  smiling  aspect  —  passes  from  sight. 

As  he  leaves  the  company,  two  enthusiastic  old 
gentlemen  begin  to  vie  with  each  other  in  sounding 
his  praises. 

They  agree  that  he  is  the  most  popular,  and,  there 
fore,  most  profitable,  minister,  ever  settled  over  the 
Plush-street  Church ;  and  are  oppressed  by  the  dubi- 
28* 


330  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

ous  query  as  to  what  would  become  of  the  parish,  in 
the  event  of  his  going  away. 

There  is  a  rumor  that  his  services  are  wanted  by  a 
society  in  Boston,  and  some  assert  that  he  has  even 
received  a  call,  backed  up  by  immense  pecuniary 
assurances. 

This  report  affects  all  the  Plush-street  people  with 
gravity.  Some  propose  raising  Mr.  Downy 's  salary, 
forthwith,  and  others  denounce  the  supposed  overture 
of  the  Boston  society  as  ungenerous  —  to  themselves. 

"We  can't  expect  to  keep  him  always,"  remarks 
one ;  ' '  such  splendid  abilities  will  command  for  him  a 
higher  position,  and  a  larger  field,  than  we  can  offer 
him  in  Bubbleton." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  think  we  can,  and  ought,  to 
keep  him,  always,"  responds  another;  "our  society 
is  becoming  rich,  and  may  soon  pay  a  Boston  salary, 
if  it  pleases;  and  Bubbleton  is  a  very  nourishing 
town,  and  a  man  need  n't  desire  a  better  field  than  it 
offers,  as  I  view  it." 

And  the  people  discuss,  from  different  standpoints, 
the  chances  of  Mr.  Downy 's  having  received,  or  being 
disposed  to  accept,  a  pastoral  call. 

When  the  minister  reaches  the  door,  he  beholds, 
standing  upon  his  threshold,  an  emaciated,  ragged, 
and  travel-stained  figure. 

-  Mr.  Downy  gives  the  beggar  —  for  such  he  judges 
the  stranger  to  be  —  a  glance  of  impatience  and  disgust, 
and  drops  a  piece  of  silver  into  his  hand. 


PLUSH-STREET  MINISTER  RECEIVES  A  CALL.      331 

"  0,  God !  that  from  you  ?  "  cries  the  stranger, 
casting  down  the  coin,  and  turning  from  the  door. 

There  is  something  in  the  voice  that  goes  to  the 
minister's  heart,  reviving  there  a  memory  almost 
perished. 

He  looks  at  the  man  more  attentively,  and  then 
presses  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  as  if  to  stifle  a  sud 
den  pang. 

"Don't  you  remember  me,  Hyperion  Downy?" 
exclaims  the  wretch, — "  why,  we  were  boys  together; 
—  we  read  from  the  same  book,  in  the  old  chestnut- 
grove  by  the  river !  We  formed  the  same  plans,  and 
dreamed  the  same  dreams  of  our  coming  manhood ; 
and  were  all  in  all  to  each  other  once  !  " 

The  minister  leans  against  the  wall  for  support, 
but  is  speechless.  Astonishment,  at  sight  of  this  sad 
memorial  of  his  youth,  and  a  full  tide  of  opposing 
impulses,  paralyzes  his  frame  and  his  utterance. 

"  Hyperion  Downy,"  cries  the  man,  "  I  understand 
you ;  I  am  scorned.  It  is  only  what  I  expect  from 
others,  for  I  have  fallen  into  temptation,  and  have  led 
an  evil  life;  but,  0,  I  thought  that  from  YOU  —  the 
friend  of  my  innocent  and  promising  boyhood  —  the 
minister  of  Him  who  had  compassion  on  the  guilty  — 
I  might  receive  some  little  favor ;  —  if  only  for  the 
sake  of  that  blessed  past,  which  you  must  recall, 
when  life  was  an  untried  thing,  and  we  were  all  the 
world  to  each  other." 

A  look  of  anguish  passes  over  the  minister's  face. 


332  BUBBLETON   PAEISH. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?"  he  demands,  hoarsely, 
surveying  the  vagabond  from  head  to  foot. 

"What  can  you  do?"  the  outcast  repeats,  in  a 
voice  full  of  reproach  and  despair,  "  nothing  — 
since  your  own  heart  cannot  inform  you  !  Fare 
well!" 

"Stop!"  the  minister  commands,  "take  this,  in 
memory  of  what  we  once  were  to  each  other ;  and,  if 
you  want  more,  come  to  me  again." 

And  he  offers  two  pieces  of  gold. 

The  vagabond  —  rejecting  the  gift  —  draws  him 
self  up  to  his  full  stature. 

"Never!"  exclaims  he,  with  impetuous  anger, 
"  I  take  no  alms  from  you.  I  did  not  come  for  that, 
but  for  what  money  cannot  buy  :  the  forgiving  love 
and  wise  counsel  I  hoped  to  find  in  my  early  friend. 
Hyperion  Downy,  twenty  years  ago,  we  parted  equals. 
The  world  has  prospered  you,  it  seems ;  me,  it  has 
ruined.  Your  life  has  been  unfolded  and  cherished 
by  peaceful  labors  and  gentle  cares ;  mine  has  been 
betrayed  and  wasted  —  I  need  not  say  how.  Yet 
God  alone  must  judge  between  us.  Guilty  as  I 
am,  this  shall  be  reckoned  in  my  favor — that  through 
the  blighting  sins  of  twenty  years,  I  kept  my  early 
love  for  you  inviolate,  even  to  this  hour.  And  holy 
as  you  may  be,  this  shall  be  reckoned  to  your  con 
demnation  —  that  you  have  suffered  prosperous  days 
to  efface  the  image  of  your  friend,  and  to  dry  up  the 
sympathies  that  welled  from  your  fresh  soul." 

Saying  which,  the  vagabond  hurries  away. 


PLUSH-STEEET  MINISTER  RECEIVES  A  CALL.      333 

The  minister  moves  —  as  if  he  would  follow  and 
recall  him.  But  he  is  far  away,  already  —  buried  in 
the  obscuring  night. 

Mr.  Downy  turns,  with  agitated  look  and  feeble 
step  —  not  to  rejoin  his  guests  —  but  to  seek  the 
refuge  of  solitude.  He  sends  word  that  he  shall  be 
with  them  again  in  half  an  hour,  and  passes  straight 
to  his  study, —  closes  the  door,  and  turns  the  key. 

There,  sinking  into  his  luxurious  chair,  and  cover 
ing  his  face  with  his  hands,  he  sees  the  vision  of  his 
YOUTH,  like  a  phantom,  rising  out  of  the  past,  and 
overshadowing  him  so  mournfully  !  Keener  grows 
the  pang  at  his  heart,  as  we  see  by  the  frequent  press 
ing  of  his  hand  upon  his  breast;  and  whiter  grows 
the  hue  of  his  face,  where  the  candle-light  winks,  and 
throws  its  flickering  rays. 

*          ****** 

The  protracted  absence  of  the  minister  begins  to 
occasion  surprise,  for  more  than  an  hour  has  elapsed, 
since  his  smiling  presence  glided  from  the  apartment. 
Whispered  conjectures  begin  to  be  made,  concerning 
the  probable  cause  of  his  detention.  Some  think  that 
the  "call "  has  arrived,  and  that  he  may  be  confer 
ring  with  the  Boston  committee.  Others  whisper 
their  belief,  humorously,  that  he  is  employed  in  tying 
some  very  intricate  marriage-knot. 

Meantime,  the  wife  —  growing  anxious  over  the 
circumstance  —  proceeds  to  the  study.  She  knocks, 
but  there  is  no  response, —  tries  the  door,  but  it  yields 


334  BUBBLETON    PAKISH. 

not.     No  sound  —  not  even  a  breath  —  disturbs  the 
awful  stillness ! 

Her  wild  alarm  spreads  through  the  house,  bearing 
terror  to  every  heart.  The  guests  are  in  commotion. 
The  boldest  man  advances,  and  forces  the  study-door. 
The  minister  is  seen,  sitting  in  his  luxurious  chair, 
•with  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  his  head  drooped 
low  upon  his  breast.  Neither  sound  nor  motion  is 
there.  Mr.  Downy  has  received  his  call. 


XLIY. 

PLUSH-STREET  AND   MR.    FISCAL. 

No  man  was  more  shocked  and  overcome  by  Mr. 
Downy's  sudden  death,  than  Robert  Fiscal.  To  the 
guilty  conscience  of  that  mercenary  and  vindictive 
man,  the  event  took  the  aspect  of  a  divine  judgment. 
He  brooded  over  it  in  secret  terror.  It  quickened  in 
his  breast,  apprehensions  unfelt  before.  The  possi 
bility  of  a  like  interruption  of  his  own  selfish  career, 
overshadowed  him  with  perpetual  alarm. 

Nothing  tends  more  powerfully  to  arrest  a  man  in 
a  bad  course,  than  the  sudden  appearance  of  death, 
barring  one  of  the  passages  of  his  design, —  the  sudden 
prostration  of  one  who  had  stood  associated  with  his 
plans,  and  who,  but  an  hour  before,  had  appeared  in 
all  the  vigor  of  his  prime,  and  flushed  with  high  and 
ample  health.  The  startled  conscience  sees,  in  such 
an  event,  the  interposition  of  a  power  which  worldli- 
ness  and  folly  cannot  confront  in  peace ;  and  the  mind 
derives  a  new  conviction  of  the  awfulness  of  its  rela 
tions  to  that  power,  and  of  the  strict  accountability  to 
which  it  will  be  held.  So  the  mysterious  death  of 


336  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

Mr.  Downy — in  reference  to  which  an  infinitude  of 
gossip  pervaded  Bubbleton  —  revived  Mr.  Fiscal' a 
dormant  convictions  concerning  religious  verities,  and 
shook  his  culpable  selfishness  to  its  base.  He  renounced 
all  design  of  spending  the  season  abroad,  and  remained, 
as  much  secluded  as  possible,  in  the  quiet  of  his 
home. 

On  Mr.  Downy 's  desk,  and  close  to  the  dead  man's 
side,  was  found  an  incomplete  piece  of  writing,  scrawled 
with  a  tremulous  hand,  and  which  appeared  to  bear 
some  relation  to  a  disposal  of  the  seven  hundred  dol-. 
lars,  that  were  to  have  paid  for  the  minister's  summer 
recreation.  The  document  was,  however,  too  imper 
fect  to  convey  any  intelligible  idea  of  the  intentions 
of  the  deceased,  and  only  served  to  deepen  the  mystery 
that  settled  over  the  grave  of  the  Plush-street  pastor. 

Some  days  subsequently,  Harry  Hanson  visited  me 
with  the  information,  that  he  had  just  conveyed  to  his 
house  an  unknown  man,  whom  he  had  found  in  a  des 
titute  and  perishing  condition,  and  who  was  now 
apparently  dying. 

"  I  found  him,  early  this  morning,"  said  the  black 
smith,  "right  in  front  of  the  very  rum-den  where 
poor  Gorman  was  stabbed.  The  villains  had  robbed 
him  of  his  money,  and  drugged  him  with  their  poi 
sons,  and  then  kicked  him  into  the  street  to  die. 
Lord !  that 's  the  curious  kind  of  gratitude  these 
gentry  exhibit  toward  their  customers  !  " 

I  went  with  Harry  Hanson  to  see  the  vagabond. 

He  was  in  a  partial  delirium,  and  evidently  near 


PLUSH-STKEET  AND   MR.   FISCAL.  337 

the  end  of  his  course.  Scarcely  enough  could  be 
gleaned  from  his  chaotic  ejaculations,  to  determine  his 
name  —  much  less  his  history. 

But  what  occasioned  us  much  surprise,  was,  that 
he  made  frequent  references  to  Mr.  Downy,  ^tnd 
seemed  to  have  had  an  interview  with  him,  on  the 
very  evening  of  his  solemn  summons.  It  was  evident 
that  the  two  men  had  once  been  intimate,  however 
widely  their  paths  had  diverged  in  later  years. 

The  outcast  expired  before  night,  and  was  buried, 
unwept  and  unmourned.  But  we  kept  the  secret  of 
his  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Downy,  in  consideration  of 
the  gossip  which  its  disclosure  must  have  elicited, 
and  laid  the  mantle  of  charity  over  the  popular  minis 
ter's  memory. 

After  the  departure  of  its  favorite  pastor,  the  Plush- 
street  church  saw  evil  days.  Many  candidates  were 
heard,  during  a  lapse  of  anxious  months,  but  the  con 
gregation  refused  to  unite  in  the  election  of  any  one 
of  them.  There  were  many  conflicting  tastes  to  grat 
ify,  and  caprice  sat  in  every  heart,  blowing  the  coun 
sels  of  reason  to  the  winds.  Obstinate  and  ugly 
parties  sprung  into  being,  and  the  gloss  of  unity  was 
grievously  tarnished.  Angry  dissensions  and  fierce 
debates  —  such  as  might  almost  have  called  the  placid 
dead  from  his  grave  —  marred  the  beautiful  propor 
tions  of  the  Plush-street  holiness. 

At  length,  a  bare  majority-vote  was  wrung  from 
the  congregation,  in  favor  of  a  certain  candidate,  and 
he  was  settled.  Whereupon,  the  minority  indignantly 
29 


338  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

rebelled  —  abandoned  the  church,  and  formed  them 
selves  into  a  separate  society.  Then,  securing  to 
themselves  "  a  minister  of  the  right  stamp,"  and 
opening  one  of  the  public  halls  for  their  services,  they 
began  to  disseminate  the  Gospel  according  to  Anti 
christ,  by  a  persevering  tirade  against  their  late 
brethren. 

The  old  society  welcomed  the  attack  with  ardor, 
and  returned  it  with  unction ;  and  so  entirely  occupied 
did  both  parties  become  with  this  evangelical  contest, 
that  Babylon  had  a  long  respite  from  warfare. 

Mr.  Fiscal  took  no  part  in  these  dissensions.  He 
sunk  into  an  obscure  and  inactive  member,  and 
remained  with  the  old  congregation,  a  silent  spectator 
of  its  troubles. 

Startled  as  he  was  in  his  feelings,  he  did  not  imme 
diately  give  up  his  destructive  traffic.  He  loved  the 
gain  it  secured  to  him,  and  his  pride  dissuaded  him 
from  yielding  an  interest,  to  which  he  had  sacrificed 
so  much  friendly  feeling  and  manly  honor.  But  for 
this  obdurate  pride  —  but  for  confessing  that  he  had 
been  in  the  wrong,  and  now  desired  to  make  atone 
ment  —  it  was  generally  thought  that  he  would  have 
renewed  at  once  his  connection  with  my  parish. 

Two  circumstances  occurred,  however,  during  the 
ensuing  winter,  that  effected  a  yet  more  favorable 
change  in  Robert  Fiscal. 

The  first,  was  the  advent  of  a  Washingtonian 
reformer,  who  set  Bubbleton  in  a  blaze  of  excitement, 
by  his  powerful  addresses  and  thrilling  appeals.  The 


PLUSH-STREET  AND   ME.    FISCAL.  339 

work  which  had  been  commenced  the  preceding  win- 
tejjj  amid  much  embarrassment  and  opposition,  was 
now  precipitated  with  amazing  rapidity.  Public 
opinion  rose  up  in  strong  array  against  the  dram- 
dealers,  and  many  were  glad  to  retain  the  friendship 
of  respectable  citizens,  by  the  sacrifice  of  their  dis 
reputable  business ;  while  many  of  the  most  profitable 
patrons  of  the  liquor-shops,  were  roused  from  their 
vicious  apathy,  and  withdrawn  from  the  theatre  of 
ruin. 

Mr.  Fiscal  was,  of  course,  much  affected  by  these 
things.  But  the  other  circumstance  to  which  I  have 
alluded,  wrought  upon  him  yet  more  effectively. 

His  own  son  fell  into  temptation,  and  was  exposed 
to  the  gaze  of  the  town,  reeling  and  gibbering  under 
the  spell  of  the  wine-cup.  One  cold  midnight,  he 
was  lifted  from  the  sidewalk,  where  he  had  fallen,  in 
the  stupor  of  intoxication,  and  borne  homeward  with 
only  a  faint  throb  of  life  in  his  breast. 

The  dram-dealer  waited  for  no  more  warnings.  His 
casks  and  decanters  retired  from  the  store,  and  were 
succeeded  by  more  innocent  merchandise.  The  snug 
little  private  room,  where  the  Cyrus  Thistleblow  fra 
ternity  were  wont  to  regale  themselves,  and  discuss 
the  pleasures  and  prerogatives  of  "gentlemen,"  be 
came,  in  process  of  time,  a  receptacle  for  fresh  meat, 
and  a  favorite  mart  where  epicures  bargained  for  their 
dinners. 

I  continued  to  meet  Mr.  Fiscal,  at  intervals,  during 
half  a  dozen  years,  without  any  attempt  being  made 


340  BUBBLETON   PARISH. 

to  renew  our  short-lived  friendship.  For,  though  all 
apparent  cause  of  difference  between  us  was  now 
removed,  the  memory  of  the  collision,  and  of  all  that 
it  involved,  yet  interposed  a  barrier  to  anything  like 
intimacy.  Though  he  had  now  tacitly  admitted  the 
propriety  of  my  interference  with  his  business,  he 
never  entirely  forgot  the  first  feelings  it  awakened 
against  me;  and  he  lacked  the  magnanimity  that 
bravely  confesses  an  error,  and  seeks  the  terms  of 
reconciliation. 

And,  therefore,  Mr/Fiscal  worshipped  still  at  the 
Plush-street  Church ;  a  passive  observer  of  its  lament 
able  decline ;  but  no  longer  the  resolute  man  he  was, 
in  the  palmy  days  of  Hyperion  Downy,  when  Bub- 
bleton  recognized  no  sin  but  such  as  concerned  the 
Babylonians. 


A     000  036  364     8 


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